It is almost the weekend….Yippee! Hubby is home with me this weekend and we are going to a whole bunch of NOTHING! There are the standard errands we cannot get out of, but at least we don’t have get out of bed at five and start doing them. There is dinner with friends, we were inviting them over to our place, but they decided we should come over instead. No cooking! Yippee again! We offered dessert, which Hubby will do. Yippee! No cooking again!
Black Orchid’s bog about being Martha Stewart has got me thinking. There are some times that we make others feel bad by our perfection. I’m not perfect. You all have read my blogs. But if one is projecting the image of perfection, it is hard on other people, and yourself. Like with the dinner.
The poor couple think that they have something to live up to. She always says how neat out place always is. Yes it is neat because we live alone, no kids and dogs like they have. She says how we always have such great dessert. Yes because that is what Hubby does for living. He says how I always cook great curry. Yes because I grew up with my Mom. He says how I have the best job. Yes because I worked years to get here. He says how Hubby is so great. Yes because he just is and I am lucky.
Everyone seems to think the grass is greener on the other side. It is not. It is the same colour, just gets sun at a different part of the day. I am envious that they have a baby already and already planning Number two. But I know why we choose to wait. I also would love to have my family nearby like they have. But I know life is also good for other reasons because they are so far away.
Like the banker I used to deal with. I thought she so beautiful and perfect. One day chatting with her she tells me how she cannot take care of her little baby. She only sees the baby once a week. And I thought that her life is not so perfect after all. We all have out own personal hurdles and no one has it all. It is all a matter of perspective.
Why then do we think some people are perfect? I remember one day Hubby and I were fighting with each other. He turned to me with tears and said that I am so perfect and he cannot live up to it. Perfect? Why would anyone think that? Why would he who knows my deepest insecurities thing that? So if someone that close can think that, what do strangers think? We often think how a stranger walking down the street is perfect but what lies beneath the perfect exterior? Why do we always forget that nothing is perfect.