I have a chip in my cup, which now makes it mine. No other cup that looks like mine will ever blend. I will look at it and I will know it is my cup because what are the odds that the same cup will have the same chip in the same place. I have no idea how the chip got there. It could have happened while washing, maybe when it went onto the drain board or maybe when it was stored back into the cabinet. But it is mine. I have very few mugs with imperfections but I like the ones with chips the best. Perfect tries to look like all the others. Perfect messes up, creates a chip, feel shame and find it hard to shake the imperfection away. Some flaws do shake away. Like a wrinkle on a shirt from the laundry. Hang up the piece of clothing and it will fall away with time. Some mistakes fall away. Some stay. The chip in my cup will stay and it is damaged and it is perfect. It doesn’t apologizes. It sits there for all that use it to see it. It can now be passed down because it is special.
Like a scar. Clique but true. Men have the right idea. They embrace their scars because they are men. Scars makes them tough. Women hide scars. Try to remove them. Rub them away. Cover them. With shirts, pants, or excuses. My favorite is the tattoo. Cover your scar with a tattoo that represents that scar. Can’t the scar represent itself.