I call those women superwomen. Superwoman (definition from the Kelseyyourecompletleyinsane dictionary): A girl who has it all — athletic, hot, funny, extremely intelligent, social, stylish, compassionate, likeable, loving, confident, down to earth and has a successful career and a strong family. They’re few and far between and they probably don’t actually exist, but I’m infatuated with them. Think Kelly Ripa or Sheryl Sandberg, the COO of Facebook.
So what does this have to do with my weekend? Well as I continue to pursue my writing dreams, I’ve become increasingly more obsessed with perfection. I want to be a superwomen. I really, really do. Is that screwed up or what? I know this a common feminist conversation, so I can’t be completely off my rocker here.
With my wonderful boyfriend out of town for the weekend, I intended to complete my list of goals which included strenuous workouts, ten-hour working and writing sessions, journaling, blogging, cleaning, seeing my sister, running errands and hitting the town with the ladies. Well I completed some of those things. In fact, I completed a lot of them, however a major chunk of my weekend involved drowning myself in alcohol so that I wouldn’t contemplate what my boyfriend could be doing or how many times he’s gotten hit on in San Francisco (he’s awesome, I’m totally a jerk for even worrying about it). Needless to say, much of my to-do list remained unchecked.
Perfection is a horrible goal and I do not recommend it to anyone. But I thought hey, why not let my readers in on how much of a crazy I really am.
Highlight of the weekend: I made dinner for me and my two buddies, Lauri and Rhiannon. I set up the patio with chili pepper lights, two tables covered in retro tablecloths and lots of food and wine. I made an Indian-inspired, red lentil pasta that was overall mediocre, but the ginger peach crumble was delicious. Three bottles of wine later, we headed to a local bar on our bikes. Well, actually they were my bikes, and Rhiannon and Lauri were very wobbly and giggly cyclists.
Weekend list of goals = fail.
Girl night = Success.
Perfection = A lifetime project.