Persuing Perfection Produces Paranoia

Or, I am alliterate

My children on a walk in the forest. Photo included to add proof that despite my neurotic ramblings I am a good mother who provides her children with recreational activities in nature like a good mother (which is what I am) does.

I can hear those of you who know me snorting and saying “Yeah, right, you? Pursuing perfection? Don’t you only iron the front of your shirts because you figure you can blame the back being wrinkled on being buckled in the car?” And yes, that is true, but that’s just because to me wrinkles aren’t imperfections, they are texture and texture adds interest. There are some things that are important to me and when I fall short it makes me feel like the world is getting a picture of me that is based on the reality of my life and not the idealized version, which is actually the truth of who I am.

Yesterday I was going to the playground with the little boys and realized I needed more coffee. No wait, strike that, I wanted more coffee, I did not need it because I am no slave to caffeine and any headaches and grouchiness are purely coincidental. Around the corner from the playground is an independently owned coffee shop and I thought to stop there but when I drove by the parking lot was packed and suddenly the idea of unstrapping the two boys from their car seats and making our way inside and trying to order while corralling the  boys with my feet and then making our way back outside and safely to the van and then strapping them back in became daunting. Nay, overwhelming and I drove past the coffee shop and to the Starbucks drive through.

And as I sat in that drive through line I mused to myself this is not who I am really, because I am:

• A supporter of local business!
• NOT too lazy to get out of my car and walk!
• Able to properly control and contain my children! Who respect me because of my loving enforcement of reasonable boundaries!
• Capable of making BETTER coffee AT HOME for LESS!

Except there I was in the drive through but I quickly decided this was an aberration brought on by PMS and really it’s not my fault that the other shop had no drive through and an inadequate parking lot and who in the heck were all those people getting coffee at 10 am on a workday? Shouldn’t they be at work? So you see I really had no choice. I blame the economy.

We get to the playground and I’m there sipping on my venti sweetened ice coffee with milk and I get to talking with this lady who’d just come back to town after living in Portland for a few years and we’re talking about free cultural activities and public transportation and community involvement here versus there and while I’m enjoying the conversation I keep looking at my Starbucks cup and thinking:

My beverage is revealing me as a fraud. A fake! A POSEUR! Venti sweetened ice coffee with milk is not the beverage of the person I am wanting to present myself as being!

But you know, I guess it was fine. She didn’t ask me for my phone number but she did say “see you around”, which sounds hopeful doesn’t it? Like she liked me anyway despite my suspect beverage choices? She looked a lot like Chloris Leachman which makes it doubly important that she be my new playground friend. And if you don’t understand why that should be, I think you are probably reading the wrong blog because who wouldn’t want a friend that looks like a young Chloris Leachman?

There are folks that would say that it’s a waste of time to worry about what other people are thinking about you, but I’m not so sure I’d agree. It seems to me that you can learn a lot about yourself by what you are worried that other people will think and progress accordingly. Obviously, you’re never going to be able to let everyone in the world in on the fascinating backstory that is you but maybe you can use the collision between fantasy you and reality you to build a better future you.

I think my future me is going to have an exciting career as the person who makes up biographies for people entering the witness protection program. Could there be a more ideal career for me? Doubt it!

Tagged as: Chloris Leachman, perfectionism, Starbucks