My girlfriend text me the other day, “So glad to see you think of yourself as a 10.” No, she wasn’t being sarcastic. She was just happy to see that I was speaking positively of myself after being with a man who did everything he could think of to convince me I was something like a minus 20.
Of course when the text came back and I had a moment to process the compliment, I paused. Then I thought about management reviews. Very rarely do they like to give a 10 or a perfect score because that means there is no room for improvement. Did I feel I had no need for improvement. No. There is always room for improvement. Isn’t that the point of the human experience?
It took me about half a nano second to think of a handful of things I could improve upon. Without thinking I got to work speeding up the carpal tunnel process. I vigorously stamped out a list of things that I would like to improve upon humbly moving down to a 9.5. The whole time I am modestly communicating my future goals, a nagging ache started tugging at my conscience. Time to hit send. I just sat there staring at the blinking cursor unemotionally waiting for a command.
My forefinger paused over the send command. Then, without thought, it started dancing between send and clear. My index was being driven by intuition while my brain was in servitude to lessons learned. In an instant my brain caught up to my finger. Clear. Screw it. I am a 10! Say something…
Turns out that nagging feeling was my soul talking. What is perfection? It is so subjective to the whim of society, which is just one collective thought anyway. Besides, if one has absolutely no room for improvement…maybe you are just over the top…and that is OK by me, I am content being a 10. For my personal taste a 10 is a symphonic blend of perfection and imperfection. This crazy balance that can manifest itself in so many ways. I have more fun meeting someone who is perfectly content failing forward to success than the American Disney ideal of what a person is.
So yes, there is plenty of room for improvement and I am thrilled with it, which bumps me up from a 9.5 to a 10. I am soft and squishy in places I would rather be firm in. After 5 children and no elastin, too many places on my body remind me of an over-inflated balloon repetitiously deflated too many times. I don’t know enough about what I want to know and too much about things I would rather not know. I strive for my ideal of a parent but, at times, have made the worst parenting choices ever. The list goes on…
At the end of the day (and first thing in the morning) I am really happy with the person I look at in the mirror. I love the way I look (bad hair days and all), the way I explore my world, the way I explore myself, and the way I share my life adventure with my children, friends, and family. I embrace my so-called flaws because without them I wouldn’t be able to relate to my fellow human beings which has always been a problem for the Gods. If I couldn’t relate then I probably wouldn’t have much to contribute. Lord knows I appreciate it when someone can relate to me and contribute to my experience.
So, if you feel like a 10…the you are a 10. Feeling like a 10 doesn’t make you proud in the biblical sense, it just makes you proud of who you are.