if I were born on an assembly line...the sirens would have started blasting and the men in hazmat suits would march as soon as I hit the quality control section. The men in their suits would remove me instantly so I don't infect the other more perfect specimen. At worst I would be chucked into the incinerator and terminated immediately. At best someone would see that while I might not be shiny enough for public consumption on a mass level, I perhaps am good enough to be of some worth.

I was chucked out into this world in all my flawed and defective glory. Like a teddy bear who is missing an eye and someone hot glued a button in its place. It's not perfect but someone will love and cuddle that Teddy Bear more because it has flaws than they would if it were perfect. In fact, some people might find the flaw charming and adding character. My husband chose me with all my flaws. Friends have chosen me despite my obvious defects. I get dirty looks sometimes by those perfect specimen without defects. They wonder why I ever made it to the market in the first place. I don't want to belong with them or by them. They have enough and don't have room for me.

So I'm defective but okay because I find more value in the people who value those of us who are damaged. It's easy to love "perfect" but it's more meaningful when you see the perfection in the defective. At least for me. My husband is defective and it's the defects I love most about him. So it's all going to be okay.

(((Hugs)))