I gave up on Martha Stewart a few years ago.
Or rather on her image and expectations. Well before the video of how Martha Stewart dismissed bloggers came to light yesterday. She scoffs that bloggers are good at what they do because we’re not trained like the editors of Vogue magazine . Or we don’t test our recipes like her kitchen does. Of course the blogosphere exploded. Many of my blogging friends have crafted well-written responses to her remarks.
That’s not why I’m gave up on Martha. I love reading her crafts, dutifully subscribed to Everyday Food magazine until it ceased publication (amazing recipes), and even wanted to attend a taping of her show before it ended (I never did). My friends used to tease me and say I could be the Asian Martha Stewart. (Don’t you love friends?) Heck, I even attended the shindig she hosted at her offices during BlogHer 2010. Let’s just say we had a slow break-up. We were growing apart and by the time I realized it, there was no turning back.
I gave up on perfection.
Martha Stewart represents what our life could be like if everything were perfect. And we had millions of dollars to hire staff to do everything for us. Her magazine is beautifully styled. It showcased gorgeous crafts that look professionally made, but you could totally make it yourself! It showed me how I could host an outdoor dinner party for 24 if I just planned ahead. How about those meticulously organized kitchen drawers and mud rooms? Never mind my 2 bedroom apartment’s mud room is the linoleum floor right inside our front door.
It was fun to imagine the perfectly styled, meticulously organized, and homemade gourmet meals.
Until I look at my reality: forgotten kids’ toys and coffee stained school newsletters on my desk next to the pencils with missing erasers, my beautiful but messily written in Erin Condren planner, and a giant mug of coffee. Step into my living room aka the kids’ playroom. Don’t look too closely at the cheddar bunny crumbs under my couch or the piles of unfolded laundry on the futon. My chairs and couches are naked because last night my kids used the pillows and cushions to build an ocean on which they created a glorious adventure little kids can.
Yes, I’m still a recovering perfectionist. But I’m getting better at letting go and lowering my standards. I don’t have the energy to try to make every plate of food look perfect, but I make sure to Instagram the ones that do. I also Instagram not so pretty food photos too.
I’d rather have a messy home than freak out every time the kids leave their toys in the hallway or yell at them for throwing every pillow in our home on the floor so they scale their imaginary mountain. I’d rather let the dirty dishes sit the sink a little bit longer and watch The Big Bang Theory on the couch with my husband.
I’m glad being perfect (or giving off the image of it) makes you happy Martha. Perfectionism isn’t for me. I choose to enjoy my imperfect moments.
What are your imperfect moments?