Progress Not Perfection

"The opportunity to embrace the whole of my humanity has presented itself once or twice before-and I’ve held out for something better. I’ve been waiting for the perfect body, the perfect amount of therapy and knowledge, the perfect moment to take that leap." - The Wunder Year

As I'm sure I've said before, I hate the word "perfect." Maybe it's because I've tried for 21 years to be "it," or maybe it's because "it" doesn't exist. I do know one thing, we all want what we can't have.

I survived Easter. Although I definitely can't say it was perfect, which unfortunately to me is still a failure, it was probably my best holiday eating wise to date.

Yet somehow, that hasn't been enough for me. I've spent the past two days thinking of the two helpings of stuffing I had at dinner (yes, we had a Thanksgiving meal instead of your typical Easter ham) verses just having one and being done. I'm paranoid about the twenty jelly-beans I had at night, when hours after dinner I was hungry again.

On the bright side, I probably won't come into contact with another chocolate bunny until next Easter. Unfortunately, the absence of certain foods throughout the year often makes me feel like I need to binge when they do show up - hence all the jelly beans. However, I'm convinced there must be a positive lesson hidden in all those pastel colored Easter eggs or at the bottom of a plate of Christmas cookies.

Progress.

Yup, that's the lesson.

As my wonderful mother always says, "Progress not perfection" - that's what matters in the end.

I often repeat the phrase to myself after a particularly bad binge, comforting myself that hey - twelve mini crunch bars is better than thirteen. That's progress. When I first stopped making myself sick, I stayed away from the toilet by saying, "Hey Em, you may have all that crappy food in you but you aren't taking drastic measures to get it out." That's progress. On days I give myself "off' from working out and don't fall into a downward spiral, I'm confident that it's progress.

But point blank ... progress doesn't feel as good as I'd imagine being perfect does. While I know I'm moving in the right direction by "making progress," it's also so uncomfortable that sometimes I'm convinced this can't possibly be right.

I'm supposed to be happy I had a chocolate chip cookie and didn't instantly plan an escape route to the nearest bathroom? I'm supposed to be okay with not working out every day for at least an hour? What do you mean? That's not possible.

But as I'm slowly but surely learning, it is. It is so freaking possible that it's actually unbelievable. It's just awkward, different - and that makes me shy away form it.

Take the jelly-beans for example. I'm assuming I won't see another jelly-bean until next Easter. So did I eat twenty because I needed twenty of the squishy treats to last me the next 365 days? Did I eat twenty because if next November I suddenly forget what jelly-beans taste like my world will be over? Did I eat twenty because come April 1st, Wegmans will sell out of the delicious snack and if I ever want to eat one again I'll have to order from the jelly-belly site and that'll just be ... weird, wrong, unacceptable?

No. I ate twenty because the day hadn't been perfect. I had "failed" with the stuffing and I figured why not make it worse by eating a bunch of jelly-beans.

I know what you're thinking ... they're just jelly beans. I get it. I'm aware. I'm also slightly crazy ... but I think we've already established that and I'm far past the point of caring.

I suppose it's time for me to make my point.

I could have ravaged through every Easter basket I came in contact with, eating every piece of candy my fingers touched. I could have had three plates of food at dinner and then rushed to the bathroom to attempt to make myself perfect by bringing it all back up.

But I didn't. Those stupid twenty jelly beans are progress - the farthest thing from perfection.

And right now, that's just what I need.

Oh - and at the end of the day, they're just jellybeans. They shouldn't hold the power of ruining your day, Emily.

So I will try my hardest to not let them - Easter, you were a success.