Some great comments yesterday which got me thinking (always a dangerous past-time!). I’m not sure what’s up with my brain, but obviously I’m thinking something through in the back burner of my mind. Guess you’ll have to bear with me as it works through me, because the kinky stuff has been pushed down until I think myself to the other side of this.
I guess yesterday’s post started because I’m happy, but became more about that endless, unceasing quest for being ‘more’, ‘better’, and the oft touted “improved”. I don’t feel guilty for being happy, nor for not being perfect by society’s harsh standards. It’s stupid, because NO one is perfect.
Do we need improving? Sure, some of us could lose weight. Some of us could gain weight. Some of us could read more, or clean more, or less of both things.
And this isn’t to say that you should sit around on your sofa (or floor) like an amorphous lump just growing mold. This isn’t to say that you shouldn’t learn new things, either. It’s more of an acknowledgement that we don’t need an exterior force telling us that we need to be “perfect”.
I don’t ever “strive for perfection”–it has long been my personal motto to alway be the best nilla that I can be…and tomorrow that may look different from today.
I don’t work for NASA. I don’t live in an environment where “failure is not an option”–and there are certainly times and places where we all need to push through, push harder, and just do it. Certainly where our Masters/Sirs/Tops/Dommes/Dominant tells us we need to be is important. But at the end of the day? Your self-worth has to come from within you, not from Her or Him. It can begin from them, but it really comes from you and your work.
He sets some standards for me that is true. “Take care of yourself.” “Eat well, not junk.” That’s pretty much it. Not tons of directions, because the fact is, He likes me as I am. Sure, He teases me *relentlessly* about the “kitties” (ie, the muffintop)…but it is partly a game, and partly a way He can torture me. (easy to get a grip on a spare tire, right?) Sure, He’d be happy for me to lose 10 pounds. But He’s also happy with who I am. He accepts me as the perfectly imperfect slut who is insatiable and who sticks hearts on Him when He isn’t looking, who laughs at His jokes, and who can’t do math. (and who takes His marks like He’s drawing on my skin with markers, rather than His hands) I am perfectly imperfect, yet always growing and evolving.
TW and I were talking last night and I commented that she has way younger friends than I do and the kids consider her the ‘fun mom’ while I am the ‘boring’ mom. I do the house stuff. You know, day-to-day living stuff, from laundry to sweeping, and discipline. I work most evenings, and every Saturday and occasional Sunday’s. My fun time with family is very small. And I was feeling a bit down about it, frankly. Who wants to be the “boring” mom?! She is a go-go-go always on the move hurry to the next thing where is it let’s go now and have FUN! kind of person. I’m slower. I like to stop and look at an ant crossing the sidewalk. I like to look at the shape and structure of a flower. I like to look at clouds. I stop to watch the dappling light dancing through the trees, and dust motes sailing through a sunbeam. I look at the small views of life, she looks at the bigger more splashy things. (re-reading this? It sounds like I’m five…maybe I am. I am fascinated by the tiny microcosms of life.)
This doesn’t make either of us better. This doesn’t make either of us right or wrong. We just have our own paths. My role in my family is important. It’s important to me to not live in a grimy dirty house, that the laundry is done and the house tidy–it’s my vanilla kink, if you will! I’ll never have “house beautiful” like in a magazine, but if you’re really “living” in a house? who does, right?
All this, these examples here…they all point to the same thing. Perfect IS attainable, because it is who we are just now. Just today. It’s not being unhappy because we don’t have an iPhone, or a Peace Rose, or a Lexus. Some of you do have those things. Doesn’t make either of us “better”…just makes us different. And if we can celebrate those differences from a place of inner peace, I think we can be happier people. At least, that’s how it’s working for me.