The Perfection Myth

Ohhhh....bum! I crumbled. I bit the proverbial apple only this time it was three squares of 85% dark chocolate and a couple of glasses of Cab Sav. I could beat myself up over that this morning but that would be doing what I always do when falling off the wagon. Hell, the wagon hadn't even left the station though!

But anyone who has ever dieted will tell you, after you've had that first biscuit, it isn't uncommon to kick the door down and eat the whole packet. Then you dust yourself off and say I'll get back on the horse tomorrow. But, the psychology of that is all wrong. If you step off the path for a second, just step back on, don't run off into the fields to get lost again. I let myself indulge in some late night decadence but I have factored that into my program. The occasional slip is to be expected and embraced for what it is. I still drank less than I usually do and I didn't eat the apple pie and ice-cream that everyone else did.

Yesterday was better than most days and today will be even better. I'm not perfect and that came as a rude shock to me when I first woke this morning. We would all do well to remind ourselves of that now and again because this moronic society that we live in is constantly raising the bar of perfection and expecting us to dance, bitch, dance. Perfection in anything, anywhere, is a myth.

I'm never going to look like Nicole Kidman and frankly that's a good thing because I hate her passionately.(It's not jealousy....really....well not much). I am short and round, like a cuddly hobbit. I can become fitter and less round but I like to be cuddly because I like cuddles.

I can't have the house in immaculate condition all the time because I live with a pack of slobs. Running around chasing my broom tail is just stressing me out. The place is tidy and it looks good. That's enough. I don't have enough money (yet) to buy my New York loft but maybe my life can still be happy and functional without it.

When fashion models are anorexic and/or thirteen years old, what hope do I have of being a physical ideal. The ideal is idiotic.

I just want to be healthy, happy and loved. Not perfect.

But every day I will lift my own personal bar and strive to be a better, stronger person.

I did get up at 5:30 today and bounced out of bed after a particularly nice cuddle with my best friend with benefits. I fed the minions. I drank a bizarre concoction of almond milk/blueberries and cacao/maca powder and scoffed down some exotic supplements. But I let myself have a coffee. Just one. Because I deserve it.

I have straightened the place up, sent the children to school and will now begin my physical workout and then settle down to write. I have moved my office out of bed, into the den where I will be surrounded by books instead of pillows. It is possible I will get more work done that way.

I have read some of Germaine Greer's 'the whole woman' this morning because I love that woman's mind and she is like a spark plug that jump starts my own brain.

Today there will be a kick-ass article on addiction finished and a few more chapters of the ludicrous escapist novel.

I would really like something surprising and wonderful to happen today. But if not, just having today is enough.

Peace. Joy.

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