With the exception of Mary Poppins, (and perhaps Jude Law) there are very few people on this planet that can claim to be practically perfect in every way.

Sure there are those whom think themselves pretty close to perfection, the types who, when being interviewed for example will respond to the question, ‘What are your negatives?’ with a genuine blank, sincerely at a loss for an adequate answer.

Then there are those who try much too hard to portray an air of perfection. Wanting so to appear perfect, sexy, funny, clever, wealthy... and being completely oblivious to the blatant transparency of their boastful ways.  

Some of us work hard to build barriers, giant brick walls around ourselves, in order to prevent anyone from coming close enough to glimpse imperfections or insecurities and thus we try to portray only the positives to the outside world.

But the kind of people I’m really drawn to, the kind I love the most, are those to whom I can relate. The real, ‘warts and all’ human beings. Those who may be striving for perfection? Those who are not even bothered. Deliciously and realistically flawed.

Because nobody is perfect, no-one! (Not even me!) And you know? Sometimes I think those imperfections, insecurities, vulnerabilities, weaknesses even? They can be your most endearing assets.

This is why when it comes to bearing my soul I am as naked as the day I was born. My heart on my sleeve and my flaws practicably visible for the entire world to see.

So just for the record, in case you have yet to discover any of these flaws (because it’s not uncommon for others to be completely dazzled by the wonderful attributes I possess! (Sarcasm being one of them!!)) allow me to draw your attention to some of my unflattering bits.

1.       I’m stroppy. Brat-like sometimes, especially if I’ve had little sleep and you’re my Mum. I throw embarrassing teen-like tantrums. And I roll my eyes. A lot :-/

2.       I hold grudges longer than... well... really long things.  Can forgive. But I will never ever forget.

3.       I’m unbelievably scatty and whilst I have good intentions and think of nice things, I almost never get round to doing things, like sending birthday cards or thank you notes.

4.       I can be extremely lazy, and at times idle. If you come to my house I shall probably make you a cup of tea once in our lifetime. After that you know where the kettle is . :-/

5.       And the heaviest flaw I carry, the one that causes me the most heartache, is that I’m ridiculously sensitive. Like a sponge, soaking up emotions and problems from everyone around me, unable to switch off and acutely concerned with how the world judges me.

And for a bunch of imperfect humans we sure are judgemental bastards sometimes.

‘May he without sin cast the first stone...’ God knows I’m not a religious gal, but this quote from the bible really strikes a chord with me.

It’s so true. Unless you are a saint, eating your five-a-day, washing behind your ears, always making the right decisions and taking the right paths, then you really have little right to judge others.

We’re all guilty of course, of judging a book by its cover, of hastily forming opinions, our minds narrow, our fingers pointing, yet most of us, myself included, cannot abide being the object up for judgement.

I’d love to flick a cheeky finger to those that provide an uninvited evaluation of my life. I’d love to say I don’t care what others think. But that would be a big fat lie, because I really do care.

In my own little life bubble, with my husband and my children I am deliriously happy. I feel content knowing that, whilst I’m not perfect, my heart is in the right place. I’m aware of my screw ups and I’m proud of my achievements. And I’d very much like things to stay that way. Yet when your soul is open wide you inevitably find one or two overly opinionated leeches drifting in ready to criticise your every move.

Being overly sensitive means that it genuinely hurts when someone does make me their object of discussion. It knocks me sideways in fact. Even if I don’t care for or even think highly of them I find it hurts. It makes me doubt myself in every aspect of my life. I begin to wonder whether I am a good person? A good mother? A good friend? I can drive myself crazy with constant analysis.

I’m a ‘cup is half full’ kinda girl, I like to see the best in everybody, I don’t like to believe that some people can just be ‘bad,’ I always try to find an excuse for them. To justify things.

And I spend my life trying to eliminate the guilt that we, 21st century women seem to carry with us. Life can be shitty enough, without each of us bitching about the choices we make.

 I like to reassure others, to fill them with confidence and make them feel good about themselves. That’s ultimately my goal, to make people feel content in their own skin.

Remember in my book I told you that in the battle of the sexes I am very much a ‘girls girl?’ Well that’s still the case. I’m still yearning for that secret society of sisterhood.

We’re all too quick to judge one another as women, on everything, our choices in men, the choices we make as mothers, the decisions we make in our careers. Still there are those that point fingers and criticise us, as though it’s going to make them feel better about their own lives. But I don’t think it will. Nope, I fear in the long run that constant judgement of others, when we should be concentrating on our own lives, will simply result in a lot of cynical and lonely old women.

This unattractive tendency we have to bitch about one another has got to stop. We should be supporting each other, standing tall in our stilettos and celebrating the fact that whilst we’re not perfect, we are ourselves, each with the born right to choose our own paths and destinies. We each have the right to fuck up from time to time, and then to stand, dust ourselves down and try again. Life is not a competition. So please no more judgement.

Steph Xx