Healthy Imperfection

My phone is in a constant fight with smudgy fingers. Digits that like the Adam’s family hand move about the device on their own accord. Dirty as it may be, it still works. So, I post on Instagram.

The picture was of a writer’s snack that was gluten and dairy free. A rice cake topped with a heavy peanut butter smear, raisins, and granola. This snack satiated my need for anxious hunger and a calm stomach. It was a post of #substance that my polled followers wanted.

Minutes later, I checked my account to see how my post performed. People had engaged—“yum”, “you lost me at rice cake.” It worked. I engaged in conversation on social media. Then, a DM arrived, “Even better,” I thought. “Deeper insight into a future readers’ mind!” It was from @bookishyogi.

She offered me the kindest criticism I may ever receive. She said, “If no one is telling you about the hair on the plate; you need new friends. Conversely, if it’s to get more likes: well done.” I processed her comment. It was clever, lighthearted, well written and from it, I realized she came from a similar tribe. She understood how any marketing is good marketing.   

Her comment was societally spot-on. I needed to educate and meditate. Slow down and be present to see the whole before doing. In her words, it was an example of how we all “gloss over.”

She was totally right. I was reminded of my prior occupational roots. The Puritan foundation of capitalistic prudence. The realization that showing my true and sometimes ugly self is not allowed in that world. #Instagram is like the magazines I used to edit. No room for…

“A hair, on the photo. OH MY!” Memes of unmovable screen hairs crossed my Facebook page. I trained my brain not to let the mistake set off a series of excuses—I need new glasses, my kids took my phone, it’s probably a fiber from my clothes. Formulated explanations never solve my problems.

Instead, her blithesome comment got me thinking in a similar way. I reflected on a time I’d seen a hair in a hermetically sealed package of ear plugs and couldn’t control my laughter.

“I hope people laugh.” I responded. But just like any piece of #criticism, I didn’t stop processing her #productive comment.

She was totally right. If I was in a business and I posted that image, I would have been mortified. Questioned by seniority for my ability to do my job.

But my new job is to first take care of my family. My second job is as an author. Both are part of the long-game. Careers where little fumbles don’t matter. My life's work is based on the foundation that tomorrow can always be a better day. That is how people like me can spend more than six years working on the same project. In this instance, I was transparent, informal and in the flow of overcoming a COVID-bound mess. This was a moment where my digestive misery coagulated into productive book marketing. The coolest part is that thanks to @bookishyogi I fell upon a #gracenote. No, it was not the realization that showing my true and sometimes ugly self is not allowed in this world. It was a reminder that the goal of my blog is to share my own imperfections in hopes of inspiring others to do more.

My goal is to take off the mask when appropriate so that we can have these conversations. I want to be #intouch, but sometimes I need help.

No one else noticed the plate hair or shared that they did. It wasn’t an Adam’s family smudge. The mistake was my fault. I should’ve wiped the perimeter of the plate clean with a wet paper towel. Instagram is all about appearances. My account has an aesthetic, it is raw.

I want to challenge the pretense of perfection. This hair gives me the opportunity. If all I work on is being flawless, then I will constantly live in a state of disappointment and shame. Perfection is not mortal. Being human is being kind to myself and aware that it takes a village to help one become successful. I need a team. Without one, I so easily forget how much help formalized structures receive. But, if I can get assistance from a few more @bookishyogis and vice versa, I can #raiseup both myself and others.

So, to @bookishyogi, thanks for the conversation and for encouraging me to push a bit harder. Thanks for helping me get some more work done and for inspiring a long-overdue giggle.