Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Head in my hands

Perfection. The ultimate virus that can break down just about anything. It has broken me down. Down to the ground, to a place where I stare at others living life while I hide behind my "fancy" title and ergonomically obnoxious cubicle.

Ladies and gentlemen, I haven't blogged because of said virus. My writer's block has been stimulated by this virus that causes paralysis, causing it to run amock, like a flesh eating bacteria that clearly has no concept of portion control.
How ironic.

"I will blog just as soon as I can report that I have returned to goal!!"---is the excuse that swims within my mind when I consider writing.  Six months since my last post, and I am no more closer to goal. And so I sit here, with my head in my hands, tears in my eyes, admitting that I am not perfect.

Holy shit! I don't think I have ever said that out loud. Well, I am sure I have, and logically I KNOW that perfection is a concept that lives with the tooth fairy. That said, I have held on terribly hard to the virus that causes disappointment for 31 years. I can remember being five years old and throwing a tantrum in the Astoria tenement apartment I grew up in because the ladybugs I tried to color in did not come out flawless.

I was five. At five, I don't think we are introduced to words ending in "ion" yet! So you can imagine how paralyzing it is to be a 31 year old ambitious New Yorker who sets herself up for failure.

Ah. Failure. One of the side effects of perfection. And a word that I also have been grappling with for 31 years. It's also a word that I saw this week that restarted the pulse in me.

How ironic.

It all started when I read this blog: 

Suzi is a fellow weight watcher who I met through twitter! Twitter suggested I friend her because we have mutual weight watcher buddies and, I have to say, it has been a breath of fresh air.

This week, Ms. Storm wrote about failure, and I encourage you all to read it. It says exactly what I feel, what we ALL have felt. Powerful, raw, and gut-wrenching, it may have been what this girl needed to punch perfection in the face.

Tomorrow morning, at 7:45am, I am going to a WW meeting. Tomorrow morning, I face the scale. I won't say that tomorrow morning, I start again. No time like the present.

Stay tuned . . .

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