Yep, I admit it. I'm a perfectionist. Clearly far from perfect but known to obsess over the small stuff. Lately, in all of my blogging bliss, my nemesis, Little Miss Perfect, has reared her superior well-coiffed head. She loves to point out when I make a tiny little mistake, and then she taunts me for hours, sometimes days. And I'm still trying to recover from missing the word "breathe" in the third grade spelling bee. I mean, who knew it had an "e" on the end?
Little Miss Perfect came for a visit a couple of weeks ago, after I published a story to this blog. She whispered in my ear, "Hey. Guess what? You used that word incorrectly." Everything shifted to slow motion.
"Noooooooooooo!!!!" I shouted at the computer as I tried to reach out into cyberspace and yank the words back into the drafts folder. Too late. My faux paux was already out there, resting in your feed readers and sitting happily in your inboxes. It made my eyes twitch. I started to get all splotchy.
Finally, I mustered up my courage and told Little Miss Perfect to take a hike. Then, I corrected the mistake and hit "update post."
Big deal? No. But it sure felt like one.
So, I've officially had enough of her. I have decided to beat LMP at her own game. First, I'm going to ask you to give me some grace when my brain short-circuits and I make a (gasp!) mistake. Which, I'm sure you already have. I'm also going to take away her power by sharing my top three embarrassing moments. Believe me, there are many, many more, but I'm going to do us all a favor and stop at three. So here we go:
Angie's Top 3 Embarrassing Moments:
Number 3- the time when I was 12 and a boy was coming at me, ready to kiss me on the lips. We had an audience and I freaked out. So I tried to stall him by asking how he was going to kiss me. Needless to say, he didn't kiss me at all, and everyone (except me) cracked up laughing. It took two years for kids to stop saying, "Hey, Angie! French or American?"
Number 2- I'm a television news reporter, fresh out of college, on one my first big stories. I interviewed a woman named Pat about her father, who had been killed in the Oklahoma City bombing. Problem was, her name wasn't Pat. It was Sue.
It only took a few seconds for the phones to start ringing. Sue's friends weren't too happy that I had decided to give her a new name. And neither were the anchors who had to go back on the air and make the correction.
Number 1- A couple of years later, I'm covering a forest fire. I'm wearing protective clothing and a huge hat (imagine Smokey the Bear with a chin-length blonde bob) and interviewing a fire official.
Live. On the air.
Fire official: "The fire is still burning, but it is contained. We're asking people to avoid the area."
Me: "So you're saying we're not out of the woods, yet?"
WE'RE NOT OUT OF THE WOODS YET?
Yes, friends. I really said that.
But it gets better. I turn to the camera and say, "Bill and Debi, fire officials say this blaze is no accident. They have evidence to support it was indeed started by a human."
A human? Oh, really? Because for a second there I thought I saw a crazy raccoon running around with a book of matches and a can of lighter fluid. My co-workers and boss had big fun picking on me after that.
But I'm still standing and I managed to escape my broadcasting career with credibility. And I'm no longer terrified of being kissed. French or American. So there.
So tell me, are you a perfectionist? Does it ever hold you back? How do you squash your Little Miss (or Mr.) Perfect? I'd love to hear your stories and insights.
ps- what's really embarrassing is the fact that I originally misspelled TWO words in the title. Note to self: spellcheck ain't so perfect either. :)