Stop Whining About the Fact that You are not Perfect

I don’t normally go into a vent on Meaningful Mama, but today you get a rant.

Stop whining about the fact that you are not perfect. 

Now before my own friends call me a hypocrite, let me first apologize for that fact that I’ve done this, but I want to call it quits. Completely. Quits. I want to be done forever, and you have permission to call me out on it when I fail.

When I was in high school I remember a very impactful conversation with my aunt. I believe I was trying on clothes in front of her, and I said out loud the words that too often come to the minds and out of the mouths of women, “I’m so fat.”

Her beautiful face set on top of her curvy figure got eye to eye with me and said, “Jodi, how do you think comments like that make me feel? I struggle with weight, but you are beautiful. Your comments demean me.”

I will never forget that moment, and it changed me. She was so right. The “I’m fat,” comments are hard to escape. It has taken years of effort to change not only my words but my thinking. I’m trying to raise my kids to think differently about how they weigh themselves.

Stop whining about the fact that you are not perfect. 

Weight isn’t the only idol we create in our lives. How often have you walked into a beautiful, clean home, and you immediately get an apology about how dirty or cluttered the house is? This is the mom whose house looks perfect, but has a few items here and there and posts all these pictures on Instagram about ’embracing the imperfections’ when their house looks like yours after you’ve been working all day to clean it.

When you hear those comments, how does it make you feel? I know how they make me feel. – like less.

Are your words unintentionally hurting the people around you? When I walk into that home where the person is complaining about their “mess,” I don’t want to invite them into my home. I begin to be insecure about inviting anyone into my home.

I recently was with a friend who was complaining about her post baby belly. She even showed me, and I was shocked. I couldn’t even lift up my shirt to show her the sagging, stretch-mark ridden, pale skin underneath. It didn’t come close to the beautiful, tan and flat belly that she had. Her comments made me feel like less. I wanted to be my strong aunt, look her in the face and repeat the words, “How do you think comments like that make me feel? I struggle with weight, but you are beautiful. Your comments demean me.”

People, these comments breathe life into no one. Stop apologizing for not being perfect. Stop complaining about it. Your words hurt.

I love the quote from Eleanor Roosevelt, “No one can make you inferior without your consent.” This is absolutely true. It is my fault that I take other people’s comments about their imperfections and apply it to my own life. I choose how I let other people’s comments make me feel. That I need to work on too – admittedly.

However, I find we too often shut our doors to our friends and neighbors because we don’t want them to see our mess. Whether it be a literal disaster that so often overtakes our homes or other glimpses into our imperfections – the fact that we don’t always look perfect, cook perfect, and our kids aren’t perfectly behaved.

Life isn’t perfect. You are not perfect. People feel more comforted when you invite them into your muck. It makes you real and approachable.

Too often these things become an idol for us. How many hours do we spend cleaning while we could have been communing? How many hours do we spend exercising and obsessing about calories when we could have been engaging? How many hours do we spend shutting the doors because we are too afraid of what others would think of our children and their behavior? These things – a clean house, exercising, well-behaved children – are all good, but at what point do they become an idol? At what point to they become bondage?

My guess is that people will walk into your mess and feel relieved. They will feel comfort and some of the pressure they put on themselves to have it all together will begin to melt away.

This rant is a rant to myself too. I teach my children to put people above things. I see how I too often get this balance out of whack. Will you join me in saying, “No more”? Open the doors to the mess that is life and please stop whining about the fact that you are not perfect.