The Perfect Protest

Where in the world did September go? The last few weeks have whizzed by as we've re-acclimated ourselves to the school-year routines. At the beginning of the month I shared how I was breaking free from some "stuff" in my life. Now, at the end of the month, Brene has inspired me once more as she declares this week "The Perfect Protest."

My quest for perfection began on February 17, 1970. Ok. Not really on the day I was born, but I'm sure it was only a couple years after that (when I could walk and talk) that I decided I needed to be perfect at just about everything. Most of my life I've spent searching for perfection--but mostly in relationships. And my appearance.

Then, this past February I turned 40. I honestly cannot describe it, but something shifted inside of me. I became less likely to compare myself to someone else and more likely to embrace who I am. The mom who yells, gives in, cries, and never finishes the laundry. The friend who never makes the initial phone call. Cellulite, hormonal acne, and all.

Guess what? The world didn't stop. The sun still shone. I could still breathe. In fact...I began to breathe more deeply. More peacefully.


I took this shot after Brene encouraged her blog readers to join the "perfect protest." It was after a strenuous workout, and I momentarily thought to myself, "Oh, I'll jump in the shower and spruce up before taking the blog picture." But, then I giggled and remembered that doing so would be totally going against the whole idea. So. Here is me. Sweaty from exercise. Hair matted down. Make-up-less. Dark circles under the ideas (aahhh, the magic of eye concealer). And I'm holding the first sign I wrote (although I so desperately wanted to re-write with different colors....). I admit that this isn't the first picture I took of myself because my head was cut off in that one. But, maybe I should have? Because that picture was certainly less than perfect.

Oh, OK. Here it is.



Brene's new book is on my nightstand and calling my name. I'm excited to read it and internalize all of the gifts that MY imperfections have to offer me. And others.

I think one of the biggest blessings in embracing my own imperfections is that it's helped me accept others for the way they are, too. This is not to say that I have to be BFFs with everyone, or that separating myself from potentially harmful behaviors is a wrong thing to do. But, I'm able to see others in a more flattering light when they stumble, hurt me, or make mistakes. Most of the time. Not all of the time.

Hey, I'm not perfect.

"Nobody's perfect. That's why pencils have erasers."
Author Unknown