Not perfect.

I’ve been thinking a lot about imperfections lately. 

We all have them. We all try to hide them. 

We all pretend our towels don’t fade, our carpets aren’t stained. We hide our stretch marks and cover what we think is too big, stuff what we think is too small.

We continue to believe someone else might actually have it “all figured out,” while we’re still trying to get our crap together.

What we all fail to realize is that we’re all abnormally normal, imperfect, broken, wonderful, incredibly talented, lovely people. With screaming kids, cable that goes in and out, laundry that piles up, and dishes that need to be put away. 

Would it be possible to accept that we’re perfectly designed and that we all have messes that currently, in this moment, need cleaning up?

The illusion of perfect is simply that, an illusion.

Our imperfections are what makes us who we are. I cannot be a clone copy of you, nor can you be one of me. And neither one of us can me Mrs. June Cleaver, CEO of a multi-million dollar company, with the (magazine photoshopped* cover photo) body of Kate Hudson.

Can we all agree to live with one another in the beautiful mess and admit…we’re imperfect and it’s alright?

*This note is not in anyway to take away from Kate’s beauty but to merely note that what we see on magazine covers is only a piece of the truth. Kate Hudson is gorgeous. Period. And so are you.*

*And you are both so much more.

{The flowers are courtesy of my mother and our backyard…aren’t they delightful?}