Perfection

Waiting outside the student loan office a few weeks ago I picked up a flyer for one of our on-campus counseling services. The topic was being a perfectionist. It went on to describe perfectionists as getting so caught up in doing it perfectly, that they never get started. Stressing over every last detail and forgetting the original purpose. This struck a chord.

I am completely guilty of procrastinating and postponing projects so I can get them done “just right”. I want my papers to be thoroughly researched, expertly and eloquently written, and thought provoking. I want my projects to be the absolute best and most original. I want my blogs to be captivating. My pictures to be works of art. My training to be spot on, and my diet to be on track every meal, every day.

My hair will never behave or be straight enough. My thighs will always be too pudgy. I will forever be too tall or too short. I don’t lift heavy enough. I’m not funny, smart, social or adventurous enough. I don’t floss. My clothes don’t fit right.


Truth: Much like this cup of coffee (and picture), I am far from perfect.

But this is me. I’m a chaotic work in progress. Its going to be one hell of a piece once I’m done, but for now, I need to accept my disaster.

My papers will likely always feel under-researched, I will always have body image issues, and my hair will not cooperate. I am still learning the ropes of a french press coffee maker, and have yet to determine the right grind, amount, and time. School is almost done, and frankly, I don’t really care much about my grade anymore. I’m not even sure University was for me. At least not right now. So getting out is my main focus.

What all this has to do with training and cooking specifically, I’m not sure. It has more to do with life and self acceptance. An introduction to me. Acknowledging the good and the bad, and embracing it.

So this is me.

Welcome.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in coffee, introduction. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Perfection

  1. Hey- I know you.

    Who knew that after years and tears and growing up and moving apart and boys and life and school and entering the twenties and ALL OF IT–

    here we are, two girls, no more grown up than we were when we wrote in our little xangas.

    I really love blogging… it’s weird, though, because I halfway didn’t want anyone to know I had a blog. Keep it anonymous, you know? Not because I wanted to bash everyone or anything, but just because I care what everyone thinks (perfectionist quality?) and I knew I’d write different if I thought those who knew me weren’t reading. But I didn’t last long as anonymous, and it was annoying to try to be so–

    and, in the end, my lack of anonymity brought you to my little blog and me to your little blog… and it brought the realization that–

    hey. I feel like I have all these “big” decisions, and this time four years ago college was a big decision. and lets face it– i probably made the wrong one. follow my douche of a boyfriend to college? stupid. but it ended up ok. so… if that can end up alright, so can whatever other (bad) decisions I may make this year.

    Your picture of coffee made me smile. You are a perfectionist, dangerously so sometimes, so just try to remember sometimes that you’re awesome.

    and that your thighs would sell for millions on the black market. but since you’re going to worry about it anyway– how great are blogs for healthy recipes?!?! who knew there were all these healthy people in our mcdonalds-ified world.

    and also know that i love you from north carolina.

    thanks for your comment, it really made my day 🙂

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s