Whatev. Issues? They're part of our charm. Right?
So what if I'm an OCD worrier who doesn't believe in allowing oneself time to grieve, or wallow, or agonize (which, ironically, I've spent a fare amount of time doing so far this year.) Who cares if my skinny clothes from last summer won't button, or zip any more? (Ok, well, I do. I never said I'd fixed my issues. I'm just accepting them.) So what if having house guests stresses me out? So what if I'm an impatient perfectionist? So what if I quilt and sew at night to keep myself from flipping out?
You know what, my friends will love me just the same, even if there are days that I don't.
Anyway, all this none-too-profoundness was the ground work for this eureka moment, courtsey of Shapely Prose's quote of the day. (Ready for inspiration?)
"Self-loathing is not a fucking character-builder. It doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t make you better. It’s just an ever-deepening, creepy-ass trap; a trap that is a huge moneymaker for corporations that do not have and never will have good intentions. You’re not disgusting. You’re not freakish. You’re not ugly. And you’re never going to be perfect. And holy shit, that is so okay." —Jane from Casual Blasphemies, in an awesome post about Kirstie Alley.
Jesus Christ is that good advice. Whether it's body image or, really, anything in life. I am never going to be perfect. And that is fucking okay. OKAY! Hear that universe!?! Hear that brain?? OK! As in fine! As in not fucked. As in, just breathe.
I know, I know... all this is easier said than done. But hey, life's about baby steps, right?
So, I'm realizing now that there probably is no point of this post. Maybe it's just my three glasses of chardonnay. (Also, here's a big shout out to whoever decided the world would be a better place with Three Buck Chuck in it.) So, I'm going to stop typing before I get overwrought and Hallmarky.