The Imperfect Perfectionist

Aauggghh!!! I wrote a post - and then it disappeared. Like something from a demented magician. I hate demented magicians. Especially those who make my posts disappear. I was writing about how my perfectionism was getting in the way of my blogging. I had this whole thing about it, and then it just went away. I guess it wasn't perfect enough. See, I'm afraid. Even though I've got other blogs, since I've decided not to use them anymore and instead go with just this one, I have become afraid. Turns out, instead of being afraid of not being good enough, I should be afraid of demented magicians. I'm afraid because this is my PROFESSIONAL BLOG. (Imagine that with a deep male voice and an echo button.) In this blog I'm supposed to impart words of wisdom, and inspiration, and how to's. Instead, I'll end up saying something about that orange man in the states and someone will be offended and they'll make me sit down and listen to him all day long. And they won't buy my books. Or I'll mention something spiritual and either the atheists or the Christian fundamentalists will want to tie me to a tree and set fire to it. And they won't buy my books. Or I'll say something about parenting (I have experience you know) and a mother somewhere will decide that I'm the worst mother in the world and will out me to all her friends at her yoga, book, and wine club. And then they won't buy my books. See what business does to you? It totally screws up your thinking. (And I'm sure that someone will be offended by my using the word screw). It makes you afraid to say what you think. Okay. Somewhere along the way, I will probably upset someone. Not in a Howard Stern kind of way, or a Rush Limbaugh style - oh, please don't like Howard and Rush - but in a "I am a woman and have an opinion" kind of way. And there go all the misogynists. Who won't buy my books. I will up and admit it. In spite of what my children will say - I am not perfect. I'm not. I try. But I am not as thin as I used to be, and frankly having kids seems to have killed some of my brain cells. I mean, I used to be able to play chess! I knew how to read at three years old. I was smart! And then I met the guy and my slide into stupid began. But that's another story. My point is, that I am not perfect. I have chocolate wrappers on my desk and I eat in front of the tv and I don't have a dining room table, or a kitchen one. So here I am, warts and all (I think I have one on my foot but I'm not flexible enough right now to see it.) and then there's those moles on my face. No people. It ain't pretty. Nor is it perfect. Yet here I am. ___________________________________________________________________

Place where I would like to put a picture but I coudn't find the perfect one.

#perfectionism #humor