Why do I care if things are perfect or not?
Okay, as a writer -- muddy ideas, ungrammatical sentences, and typos are like food spots on my clothes --it says I'm careless and distracts readers from the point I'm trying to make! I've got to strive for perfection in my work.
And yes, I have to look right. If I'm wearing makeup --base, mascara, lipstick -- I can't have specs, blotches, or smudges; hair has to be arranged flatteringly, neatly in the hairstyle I've been wearing for a long time. Before I venture outside, I need to look pulled-together, as attractive as possible. The way I look affects clerks who are helping me when I'm shopping -- it affects the doctor, lawyer, or anyone I'm consulting. And employees --cleaning woman, janitor, various fix-It people -- they function better if I'm pulled-together, nice looking.
When it comes to how you look, striving for perfection is essential.
Gee, when does it NOT matter if I'm perfect or not? When is it okay to be me -- just me in whatever mood or state that I'm actually in?
When I'm talking with my son, it's better for him if I hide my moodiness, depression, or confusions. He functions better when I'm pulled-together, organized, sensible and logical -- unencumbered by imperfections.
Gee, holy cow, holy smoke, holy minorka, good God -- the only person with whom I can be the real me is that guy who is my husband -- John, who likes-loves-respects-supports-cares for me even if I'm cranky-sloppy, off-balance-neurotic, selfish, babbling-illogical, food spotted, not pulled together, making dreadful typos because...
Hey, I'm him -- he's me -- PERFECTION is just something we humans strive for like Godliness.