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| Photo: Maria Peterson Photography |
I'm all for fighting childhood obesity but she didn't even look chubby. Labeled "fat" by first grade, I wondered what demons lurked in her future: self-hatred? depression? perfectionism?
I was such a perfectionist that a professor worried I'd crack under the intense pressure of a TV career.
"You're too hard on yourself," she cautioned as I tried to fix a jump cut (an unintentional edit in news that makes it look like there's a jump between two shots) in my story.
While a jump cut isn't fatal, there's no room for imperfection when performance is measured frame-by-frame. The bad edit was like a neon sign: FAILURE. FAILURE. FAILURE.
To prepare us for TV's relentless demands, certain mistakes meant automatic failure.
Misspelled name? "F."
Mispronounced city? "F."
Late to class? Don't bother coming. "Doesn't matter who you are," our professor warned, "the news airs without you."
It took years for me to see the difference between perfectionism and excellence. I finally got it when I heard a speaker say, "If your perfect life is coming between you and love, you're paying too high a price."
What he meant is: If your husband is afraid to kiss you for fear of smudging your perfect makeup and your kids walk on eggshells for fear of ruining your perfect house, then your perfect life costs too much.
For the times when life is messy or our thighs are fat or there's a jump cut in our story, perfectionism is unforgiving; excellence gives grace.
