I will be the first to admit I am not perfect, not even close. I will also be the first to admit that I am unsatisfied until I feel like anything I work on is perfect, which explains why my “The Ocean at the End of the Lane” book review is still not finished. I learned what a perfectionist was while I was in fourth grade because my teacher told me to look up its definition in the dictionary because I would find my name listed. Fourth grade was a very defining year for me. I learned so much more than basic multiplication, ecosystems and how electricity works. I learned that I put too much unnecessary pressure on myself. I am still a little guilty of this, but if it had not been for a conversation I had with my teacher, I’m not sure what I would be like today.

I’ll never forget that one day in particular in fourth grade. I was most likely wearing a Dallas Cowboys t-shirt, because my teacher was a huge “Terrible Towel” slinging, Pittsburgh Steelers fan, so we had a very fun rivalry and I wore that t-shirt as often as I could to get a rise out of him. He asked me to step out into the hallway with him because he wanted to talk to me. This was at the end of the school year because we always had awards day the day before field day. At my school, they handed out an award called the “Scholarship Award,” which always went to the two students in each classroom who had the best grades. I took school almost too seriously in my elementary days. I would cry if I left my books at school fearing I would have a pop quiz and be unprepared, I worried I would leave my homework at home and receive an incomplete and mostly I feared I would not receive the scholarship medallion with the genie bottle on it. I can laugh at this now, because even writing this makes me sound like the most absurd 9-year-old.

That day in the hallway, my teacher told me that my mother told him how worked up I would get about school and he told me that life isn’t about awards, life isn’t about receiving straight A’s and that life isn’t about being perfect. Although I do not remember all the details from this conversation, I still to this day, remember the final thing he told me. He said, “In this life, all you have is your name.” It may not seem like much, but when I start to feel defeated, I think back to this conversation and remember my teacher really changing my life that day.

All I have is my name, and there is only one me. I recently grabbed drinks with a close friend the other night and we discussed a myriad of things, but we talked about being perfectionists. He said that there is only one “you” and even when things seem like they have been done before, and you feel unoriginal, always remember, it has never been done by you. This made me think back to my fourth grade teacher.

I may still be working on the whole “accepting anything less than perfect,” thing, but it’s nice having friendly reminders that there is only one me and being perfectly not, is perfectly fine.

Steal my look today: LC by Lauren Conrad Blazer: Kohl’s, Wet Seal dress: Wet Seal, Wanted booties: T.J. Maxx