Perfectly Imperfect

I talk about my shortcomings a lot. I joke about them a lot. Because of that, sometimes it seems like I've got low self-esteem or feel self conscience. And that's so not true.  I would like to think that the people that know me, understand that - but sometimes I'm not sure.

I talk about these things because they're part of who I am.  If I tell you that I'm not a great cook - there isn't a value assigned to that, it's the same as me telling you that my favorite colors is purple. It's just another thing to know about me.

I don't feel inadequate that I can't catch a ball. I just feel like maybe I'm not the one you want to pick for your team. And I don't feel inadequate that I can't sing. I just won't audition for American Idol - like ever. And I don't feel inadequate that I'm chubby - even though the world tells me I should.

Do I wish I could sing like Adele? Yes. Do I wish I had the body of Sophia Vergara? Hell yes.

But those things, none of those things make me feel inadequate. My real inadequacies, my real insecurities are things you won't hear me talk about.

But in our society, we're not suppose to admit our failures. When you do, it evokes an automatic response convincing you otherwise.  I'm sure it's because we have the need to make other people feel good. I've done it myself. "What? No! You're a great cook!" as I try to choke down ribs that taste like tree bark.  But then it's always awkward because you know dinner sucks and they know it sucks but you both have to keep pretending it really doesn't.

Look, I know I'm not perfect. And I love myself anyway. I want the people in my life to know I'm not perfect and love me anyway too.

So don't waste your time trying to convince me I'm all these things that I'm not. I would much rather you spend your time convincing me that I don't need to be any more than I already am.