Sorry for the imperfect picture-this was iPhone quality

I received this coupon in the mail a while back  (no, it wasn’t a hint-or was it?). The Perfect Image, a place of great change. As you can see, there are many services to make you “perfect”. A lot of them, I have never heard of. Then again, I just got my first massage in August. My first manicure/pedicure two years ago. What do I know?

This may come as a big shock, but I am not perfect. Siiigh. There, I said it out loud (sortof). I am so imperfect, it’s not even funny. Even if I had the money, and did all the above services, I would still be imperfect. This ad got me thinking, what is perfect, and the pursuit of it? Does anyone find it? If someone does find it, do they keep it?

Why? Why, do we have to be so perfect?

I’ll admit, I’m a perfectionist to a certain extent. I blame it on being born the cusp of Leo-Virgo. Virgo’s are perfectionist, Leos don’t care. I don’t read my horoscope or anything, just talking in general terms. Yes, I edit to death a post. I’ve even been known to go back and edit old posts. They are still not perfect, much to my dismay.

When Sydney was a toddler, I ordered some sticker books off the internet. They were so cool! They had these brilliant photos, with shapes outlined to match each sticker. I thought it would be so fun. She could place the stickers herself, as we read the book.

I noticed pretty quickly, she used all her concentration to place each sticker, perfectly. She would not put a sticker in the wrong spot, nor would she put it somewhere without an outline. Hard as I tried to get her to use her imagination, she was intent on the placement, exactly where it was supposed to go.

I, seriously, felt like a Mom failure. Here I was raised by a free thinking pre-school teacher. But there I go teaching my daughter to, literally, stay in the lines. I am pleased to report, as a teenager, she DID grow out of this. Her room? Yeah, no where near perfect. HA!

I’ve also relaxed my pursuit of perfectionism in most things. Maybe, it’s age. Maybe, it’s desire. Maybe, it’s time. Maybe, it’s just the realization that I will never be perfect. I am happy the way I am.

This blog is also not perfect. I don’t have a theme. I don’t have a genre. I don’t have a schedule. I don’t have any expectations. I didn’t begin to write it to be famous. I didn’t even write it for therapy. I just wanted to write, my story, because at the time, that was important. Okay maybe slightly therapeutic

Then it began to be other stories. Life stories, living stories, stories that shaped me. Loving stories, stories of heart and soul, stories that filled me up. Laughing stories, because if you can’t laugh at yourself, then who can you? I have to admit, I find so many things amusing.

Sometimes, I read other blogs that just blow me away. I wonder why I am blogging? I’ll never write as well as her. I’ll never have my punctuation or vocabulary up to that level. I don’t have that kind of talent or imagination. And I bet they don’t edit a gazillion times.

Maybe, I doubt because I’ve never had writing classes, college, or any other form of higher education. Just high school, and that was twenty years ago. But then I realize…..

This blog isn’t perfect, and will never be perfect, but with all the quirks and edits, it works just perfect for me.

On another blog note,
I have a new blog button thanks to Elizabeth at Confessions from a working mom.

Ain’t she sweet?? Thank you Elizabeth! I feel like I’ve arrived.