It's not that I believed I was perfect but I will admit to STRIVING for perfection. A 98% test grade wasn't good enough for me - I wanted 100% or 105% if they threw in the bonus questions. When I played softball, I practiced for hours. In my work life, I was super achiever. In my home life, I tried to be super mom. In my personal life, super work out queen. (AHA MOMENT: I never did try to be the perfect wife and I guess that may be a contributing factor in the less than perfect marriage and divorce). I gave myself migraines, lost sleep over unimportant things...all in the great quest for PERFECTION. Perfect family. Perfect job. Perfect body. Perfect life.
As my children turned into teenagers, the Sorry I'm Not Perfects continued. In fact, someone wrote a song about not being perfect that was frequently turned up loud in my son's bedroom.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGs8vtjDxxY
I hate to put Cancer and Raising Teenagers in the same sentence but I am going to with great apologies to my Perfectly Imperfect sons, because both of them taught me a lot about losing the perfect. However, since this is a cancer blog and not a child-rearing blog, I will leave out the imperfect moments of raising hell raisers. Suffice to say, all perfection was thrown out the window for a few years. For those of you who witnessed me in Exorcist Mom mode - sorry. Super Imperfect.
Meanwhile and back at the cancer....
During Cancer I, I think I was still doing the perfect thing. I was the poster child for cancer. Kept the good attitude. Got my chemo with a smile; sailed through radiation; played soccer; kept that wig on and kept working. Perfect Patient. I wanted the perfect result.
The silver lining of Cancer II has been embracing imperfection. Truthfully, you can do everything perfectly and still end up with cancer. Eat right. Exercise. Clean living. Cancer. Not to say that you shouldn't keep doing those things (I am a firm believer in them), but there is no guarantee that it will save you from the C. And all that driving yourself crazy trying to be perfect doesn't put you at the head of the get out of cancer free line. So why be perfect? It's hard work. It's unattainable.
It's a month post-surgery now - I still have stitches. The girls are not quite symmetrical. When I look at myself in the mirror, I see less than perfect breasts. A body that could use a few nip tucks. A face that is beginning to wrinkle. Hair that would be gray if I allowed it.
You know what? (Siblings, sons...listen up...)
I'M IMPERFECT. And that's perfect for me.
I really love you to pieces.
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