I'm a perfectionist. I like my life to be ordered, controlled, and played out exactly how I imagine it to be. Unfortunately, I'm not perfect and nothing in my life is perfect either. No matter how hard I work at something it never seems to fulfill my imagined version of it. Something I often see as a problem.
That being said, I also have a soft spot for the perfectly imperfect. Something that those closest to me know all too well. I've always preferred the wonky star to the symmetrical one. The "difficult" kids to the angelic ones. And, we all know I chose the wildest dog to take home instead of the gentle puppy. These are choices I make, seeing in these things their inherent beauty, despite their outward flaws.
One of my favorite examples of the perfectly imperfect (outside of Nellie of course) is a one-legged drawing mannequin my friend Idara gave we when I graduated college. I immediately loved him! He's fragile, slightly lopsided, and can only be put into a few positions or else he'll topple over completely. He reminds me of me.
He is proudly displayed prominently in my home and serves as a reminder that nothing in life is perfect, but that's what makes it special, and unique. I should stop worrying about being perfect and focus on just being imperfectly perfect me.
Some things in life just get better with age. - b.