“Hello,” I am happy to hear my favourite telephone voice. “How are you?”
“Hi,” the Mentalist answers in good cheer.
“I am off target I realize,” I pout disappointed with myself. “And with all this networking I am not spending enough time with my kids. Got a moving date, December 3rd. BNP is a stupid idea. They will never be able to offer me a decent pay. Still getting up at 5:30 though and doing daily yoga. Started taking Rebecca’s pills. Wonder if it will make a difference.”
“What are Rebecca’s pills?” the Mentalist picks up.
“To lose weight,” I tell him as if that was evident. “Something Chinese with green tea.”
“I suggest you ask BNP what they have in mind first before you jump to conclusions,” the Mentalist urges me to take action, not sit around making up stories in my head.
“Okay,” I sigh still not convinced. “Well it stroked my ego for an evening.”
“Why don’t you look up losing weight scientifically?” the Mentalist gets me on another track. “You will discover that all these things are meaningless. You should just eat much less. You breath fat off in case you didn’t know. By being hungry you cause a chemical reaction that turns fat into CO2 and other chemicals.”
“I can’t stand being hungry,” I retort. What a silly idea is that, I don’t want to walk around feeling hungry and empty and grumpy.
“Learn,” the Mentalist tells me sternly.
“And I do each much less,” I inform him. “As a result my body is clinging on to fat or anything I eat. My average daily intake is 1.000 calories. That’s not a lot.”
“Rubbish,” the Mentalist scolds me.
“And weight is going off slooooow,” I complain ignoring the scientific advice.
“Drop it to 800,” the Mentalist instructs me.
“I have the Noom app and all scientific explanations,” I go on explaining where I am getting my diet information and daily motivation from. “Are you mad?! I need to function and see to 3 kids.”
“Then why do you bother with pills and diets?” the Mentalist throws at me.
“1.000 calories is already pushing it,” I argue for my calories. “Because it might speed up my metabolism. I live off fruit, yoghurt and diet bars.”
“For that you need to eat differently,” the Mentalist tells me.
“Poop,” I sulk realizing that he is right again of course. If I want different results in my diet plan, I am going to have to try something different, like change my eating habits, again.
“Yes poop,” the Mentalist riles me. “You eat to be fat.”
“What about visual diet psychology?” I test an idea I picked up from an article. “I read about that.”
“Bullshit,” the Mentalist laughs away.
“Sounds interesting,” I defend the article because it did sound too good to be true. “No it is real.”
“Just another way to take your money,” the Mentalist doesn’t need to tell me about the mechanisms of successful marketing.
“Haha,” I laugh knowing he is in fact spot on.
“Really,” the Mentalist emphasizes.
“Yes,” I confirm I did for a moment want to believe that article on visual diet psychology.
“I can come up with a plan that will work like all these others,” the Mentalist goes on. “Can you market it? We can steal a lot.”
“I might,” I play with this new idea. But whatever I do, I aim to add value. “Steal?”
“Yes just like all the others,” the Mentalist offers me a glimpse of the easy road.
“Rebecca is good at marketing,” I think out loud.
“Yes she is,” the Mentalist acquiesces.
“Would be nice but not ethical,” I am slightly seduced by the easy money scam idea, but instantly decide against it.
“You don’t care about ethics,” the Mentalist goes on pushing all my buttons. “You buy any bullshit if it makes you feel good. Just drink water before you eat. That will speed up your metabolism.”
“I do care really,” I defend my internal values. “And people do buy what makes them feel good. Drink more water, yes not doing that.”
“Ok then spend your money on your kids and stop supporting thieves,” the Mentalist coaches me. “Just drink 590ml of water before you eat and again 3 hours after you eat.”
“So no more diet pills?” I ask a little disappointed to throw away my magic beans.
“Do this every day and you will lose 2kgs a week minimum,” the Mentalist lets me in on the secret behind a successful diet.
“Wow,” I am amazed at this simple, yet effective secret I have just learned and which I can apply immediately. “Seriously?”
“No,” the Mentalist is adamant. “No pills. They are bad for you.”
“I’d be back on target then,” I think about the possibilities opening up before me if I adopt this simple method of drinking more water.
“Yes seriously,” the Mentalist answers very sure of himself. “Yes indeed.”
“Can I finish these pills?” I ask him because I really want to take them.
“No,” the Mentalist stresses.
“Oh come on!” I cry out frustrated. “Why not?”
“Because they affect your kidneys and liver,” the Mentalist explains the danger behind dieting pills. “Drink green tea rather.”
“Ah yes and I have weak kidneys,” I think back to giving birth by an emergency C-section to my youngest darling due to a kidney infection in late pregnancy.
“Water will do too,” the Mentalist sums up the benefits of drinking more water. “Flush out the toxins. Green tea is a very good anti-oxidant and helps keep wrinkles away.”
“Those pills are green tea,” I am still defending my dieting pills.
“Also has anti-cancer properties but you have to drink it,” the Mentalist preaches the benefits of green tea.
“I have had that suspicious spot removed,” I tell him I am momentarily reassured about being cured of skin cancer.
“They are green tea fiber in very fine form,” the Mentalist argues against the dieting pills. “They get stuck in your kidneys and make stones. It’s the oils you want.”
“Ah,” I give sound to my gut feeling. “Poop.”
“Yes,” the Mentalist agrees with me tongue in cheek.
“You know Rebecca sells these,” I throw in my last line of defense for the dieting pills. “Just saying.”
“No quick fix,” the Mentalist repeats once again that if you want something, whatever it is, there is work to be done. “If you want a crash diet stop eating just drink water for three days.”
“I can’t do that,” I can’t believe he can give such bad advice in the midst of such great recommendations. “Crash diets are bad.”
“She makes money from them, good for her,” the Mentalist won’t go into that discussion. Don’t judge. “I feel sad for the desperate idiots who buy them.”
“Like me,” I point out.
“Yes like you,” the Mentalist retorts. “Idiot.”
“Thanks,” I reply in a slight sarcastic tone. But then more serious, what I have been hiding: “We’ve lowered the price of the house.”
“Haha you’re welcome,” the Mentalist laughs, but then stops short. “I thought so. Whose advice?”
“Well both sides,” I tell him we all agreed on this. “The pics are good and so is the description, yet no visits.”
“I understand,” the Mentalist urges me to tell him more of how I came to this agree to this decision.
“Put it down to 524k today,” I inform him with a sinking feeling in my stomach. It seemed like the right thing to do only just a few hours ago.
“I see,” the Mentalist is not amused. “What’s your bottom line?”
“500k,” I tell him honestly.
“Expect offers around 470 to 490,” the Mentalist gruffs at me.
“470 is not enough,” I laugh off. I mean seriously, who is he kidding?
“I know,” the Mentalist replies shortly.
“490 I would consider,” I think out loud.
“Change your description to an emotional one,” the Mentalist advises me on my next best move.
“But I wanted to sell at a profit not a loss,” I realize in which way this decision has just sabotaged yet another one of my goals. “How do I make it emotional?”
“Then sell it,” the Mentalist makes it sound so simple. “Do something never done before.”
“What?” I can’t believe what he is just telling me to do. I am selling a house. It’s the most mundane thing ever. People do it all the time. Take some pictures, write up a description, put it online, receive visits, negotiate, sell. And Bob’s your uncle.
“Walk through each room and record what you feel when you are in the room,” the Mentalist tells me how to write a more experience based description to appeal to prospective buyers. “Move your bedroom downstairs. Then think what you could do to and in each room and write that down. From that make a description.”
“The bedroom is a problem,” I stop dead in my tracks of thinking.
“Forget about visible facts,” the Mentalist tells me not to write the basic boring description which says big house, 5 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, swimming pool, large garden, etc.
“All rooms downstairs are full,” I am fixated on the bed upstairs again. The entire idea just gets me stuck.
“No it’s not, you make it a problem,” the Mentalist points out but I fail to see. “Full of what?”
“There already are beds in each effing room,” I answer annoyed.
“Single beds?” the Mentalist wants to know.
“There is no room to put that bed anywhere else,” I rest my case. “No, double beds downstairs and single beds upstairs.”
“Move the single beds to the mezzanine and put your bed into one of the rooms,” the Mentalist lays out the plan yet again. “Shuffle things around. Turn the single beds in to Roman couches.”
“You realize I have kids,” I say in growing annoyance. “Growing kids who go to school.”
“Yes,” the Mentalist is getting annoyed now too. “So what? They can help.”
“Who live with me 9/14,” I go on stating why I am set on making their lives with me as comfortable as possible. “They have their room. It is their sanctuary. I am not moving their stuff around. Will traumatize them for life.”
“Why are you so determined to be lazy?” the Mentalist pushes me further now. “Is it so you can complain to get attention when you get offers around 430 to 470?”
“What 430?!” I exclaim in disgust. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Make it exciting for them,” the Mentalist gives me the recipe on getting kids to cooperate with new and wild ideas.
“Interesting ideas Mentalist, very interesting,” I try to humour him despite my annoyance. After all, he is only trying to help me think outside of the box.
“As it stands now with no imagination and cold you will not get your price,” the Mentalist predicts.
“Poop,” I am really annoyed now. I want to be encouraged, not discouraged with ideas which seem infeasible to implement.
“Do it,” the Mentalist urges me forcefully. “Make the changes. Your kids will not be traumatized if they are involved. It’s practice for the big move. Plus you can throw away stuff you don’t need anymore. Alice in wonderland for them.”
“Mmmmm,” I answer with a voice coming from deep within my belly. I hear what he is saying but do not want to argue it any further.
“Indeed,” the Mentalist is still pushing me in that direction. “Your au-pair will have fun too.”
“Yes I can imagine,” I answer as not so very fun images start playing out in my mind’s eye.
“She can cluck all day long,” the Mentalist says fondly.
“Yes she spoils that baby terribly,” I jump immediately onto a subject which makes me instantly happier.
“So discuss with her a strategy to move stuff around and get it done,” the Mentalist concludes. Your price will go up.”
“Ok,” I am tired now. Very tired.
Affirmative ideas leave me feeling joyous, appreciative, loving, and peaceful. It raises my vibration to continue pursuing my goals.
The law of attraction is simple. When your desire for change is strong enough, you will find yourself gravitating toward that which can help you achieve, and notice when opportunity comes your way. A positive outlook is the most important tool you possess. Keeping an affirmative attitude sustains you when the path you are on becomes wide and winding. As you evolve, your goals also evolve. Consciously and unconsciously, you will attract auspicious circumstances and positive people to help you.