I’ve been contemplating perfection lately–or probably more accurately, our obsession with being perfect or at least constantly improving. But the truth is, that isn’t the way we are programmed. We age, we sag, our brains tend to forget and we regress. Not at first, but eventually.
My younger son asked me the other day what my stomach was. He is not yet two and a half and he had no problem pointing out that my pants were too tight. Of course the way he did it was so comical that it nearly made up for my horror in realizing he can now more clearly see my flaws. Or at least enough to question them.
As with any experience, I reflected upon the myriad of emotions that seemed to hit me and settled on a feeling of annoyance, mostly with myself and my inability to embrace what I have. I lots weird as I realize many things–my looks, my level of intelligence, my wonderful family…and I am okay or even more than okay with these and many other aspects of my life. Nothing is perfect but do I really need it to be? Not really. And yet, I, as well as many out there, can’t seem to let myself relax enough to be proud of or embrace my imperfections. So I’ve got a challenge for myself and for all. As we near another New Year and another new beginning, try to think about what you don’t like or haven’t yet learned to embrace (laugh lines, love handles, gray hair, etc) and simply enjoy your so called imperfections and what they mean or stand for. You may find some good in it.
Happy writing this week!