The good news is, YOU are perfect. I know that you don't think you are because, truth be told, every day, we -- especially women, remind ourselves of all the imperfections that belong to us uniquely. Of course uniquely because everyone else gets it right don't they? At least in our minds they do. But we don't. We berate ourselves so often, so many times, that we don't even realize we do it. Think about it; you know I'm right. "If only I'd lose a few pounds, these jeans would look better on me"....."Should I REALLY eat that? God I'm weak"...."Is that another gray hair?"...."I wish I wouldn't have said that." I see you nodding in agreement as you read this. This self-talk is exhausting and pointless.
And then there I am wanting to project my own shame onto others, which doesn't change the fact that my tough girl facade is really only a veil in which I hide my imperfections behind. Trust me, it doesn't work, but okay, here's the TRUTH. The REAL TRUTH. When I'm driving down the street, disheveled as I usually am, (see I just did it again) - and I see THAT woman jogging...you know exactly who I'm talking about - the woman we all see with the toned and tanned perfectly muscular body, flat stomach, hair neatly pulled back into a pony tail, taking her strides with grace and confidence because she knows exactly who she is. THAT woman. Or the other one that looks like her twin sister, but is pushing twins in a double-stroller while jogging as though it's her natural state....I scream to myself "Masochist!" I mean really, who devotes that much time to their perfect little body? I silently hate that woman. She is a reminder of everything that I am not. There. It's out. That's my little secret.
But here's the good news! There is no perfection. I will say it again. There is NO perfection! We are so put upon by advertisements and magazines, centerfolds and Fredericks of Hollywood that we are all brainwashed. The men in your life? Brainwashed. Most of us fall somewhere between; oh hell, we all fall in the normal range. Uniquely normal. Answer one question for me....the people, those people that you love the most in your entire world, the ones that you will cry in agony for days on end when they die -- what is it that you love about them? Surely not their perfections, or their clean homes, or their manicured yards, or bank account. Nope, nada, zero, none. That is not what you love about the people you love, what you love is in fact their acceptance of you, and of course, the little "things" that make them imperfect. Well NEWSFLASH -- that's what they love about you too.
Let me use my mother as an example. I love her because she is quirky. When I was a little girl she would pretend she was this prim and proper lady at the dinner table. All a game composed for the mere sake of making me and my friends laugh. She would drink her coffee with her pinky in the air as if she was Mrs. Aster, and then as she got to the bottom of the cup, she would pretend there was a cockroach in the cup and she would scream and pretend to have a melt down. I of course, would laugh and laugh and laugh as would my dear friend Lucy. My mother didn't always have time to manicure her nails, but she ALWAYS had time to play "Say say oh playmate" with me, and do that little flip flop back and forth hand thingy with me when I asked her to. She would drop everything if I asked her to.
My mom is getting older, and the older she gets, the more details she gives. Recently she spent a long and serious hour giving me every play by play of my father's doctor visit because he has been very ill. It's a serious matter. This is how it went "....blah blah your father....blah blah the doctor....blah blah and he had to pee in a little cup and how difficult it must have been for him to stand and hold his cock because you know honey with your father's peripheral neuropathy blah blah blah...."...and all I heard was that my mother said COCK!" Think Edith Bunker. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
My mother has spent her entire life worrying about being perfect and do you know what? I don't just love her imperfections, I absolutely cherish them with every ounce of my being. Does she keep a perfect house? No. Does she plant gardens? No. Does she have a degree? No. But she knows how to love and nurture and that is what makes her perfect. That is what I will remember when my mother is gone.
So tell me my friends, tell me the truth. What imperfections make the people that you love perfect?
The good news, no, the GREAT news is....our perfection is found in our imperfections. We spend so much time envying what we perceive to be the white picket fences around the homes of others, that we don't see the beautiful perfection inside the lives of our own tarnished fences. Now go look in the mirror and remember who you are and find laughter in your own quirks....and piss on those that don't cherish you for who you are. Silence that negative voice my friends; it's all going to be ok.
Sweet dreams, and ALWAYS, good dreams.