Pick a physical thing you can do that will remind you of a person you believe is extremely confident. Then do it. Wear sunglasses inside. Wear an evening gown around the house. Put on a suit so you can step outside of yourself for a little while. It’s silly sometimes, and you don’t ever have to admit your strange antics at a cocktail party, but your Inner Critic is smart. The Heavyweight knows how to undercut you. If you use humor and games to get around it, you’ll find its power over you is reduced.
One of my first assignments as an editorial assistant at a city magazine was to dress up and attend charity events that all the rich and famous people frequented. I had to wander around with a photographer who would snap their pictures while I asked them their names.
As soon as the assignment would fall on my desk I would go home and worry for days about the upcoming event. Even though I’d lost about 70 pounds by then, I was still overweight and for a shy girl who didn’t want to draw attention to herself or her body, it was excruciating to have to walk up to these fancy people and engage them in conversation.
Since Clare and I had vowed to do something we were afraid of every year, I decided I would take an acting class and try out for a play. I’d loved acting in junior high and high school but had quit because in my senior year, while onstage playing Tevya’s wife Golda in Fiddler on the Roof, I heard the boys in the front row making fun of how fat I was. I had not performed since that night.
In the Method acting class I signed up for, I learned to come up with three physical things I could do that would help remind me of the character I was playing. I wondered if that technique might work in my real life. So in the hours before I had to cover yet another ball for the magazine, I decided to create a character: Confident Jacque. I chose three things I thought a confident person would do – shake hands firmly while looking people in the eye, walk with a straight back, and clasp my hands casually in my lap instead of shredding the nearest napkin, menu, or program to bits.
I set out to the ball of the season with a nervous flutter in my stomach and a curiosity to see if my experiment would work. Truth? The first time I did it I felt like an idiot. I mean, come on. I was faking it. I was play-acting like a 5-year-old. Sure, I could shake somebody’s hand and look them in the eye but I was still the kid that didn’t want to be noticed for fear that the attention would turn to hurtful teasing.
But I kept at it. I discovered that when I stopped slouching and walked with a straight back, my head automatically came up and my gaze with it. Because my body appeared to be more engaged and open instead of closed and disinterested, people began to respond to me differently. And with each positive interaction, I gained in confidence. Pretty soon I added another physical act: I looked people in the eye, smiled at them, and said “Hello,” while walking by.
The more I practiced, the more the confident actions began to seem like things I would do. Today, I am Confident Jacque. Even though I sometimes still feel like a complete idiot or too shy to ask for what I need or want. And then I practice again. For instance, this morning I felt too dumb to be writing advice about how to achieve your dreams. I’m only 36 years old. Who the hell is going to want to read anything I have to say? What do I know? So I chose my three things: 1. I painted my nails red because a sassy, confident woman would have written this. 2. I dressed up. I work in my home office and I can take myself and my work more seriously when I’m in a suit than when I’m in my pajamas. 3. I sat up straight in my chair. A confident writer would sit up straight with lots of energy, not slouch at the desk like a college student working on a term paper.
If you’re reading this smackdown, it worked. So what games do you play so you’ll feel like less of an idiot?
In a recent conversation with some of my gal pals we considered 
