“How would you rate yourself?” That was the question. I was confused. He thought it was simple and straight-forward, I expected more explanation. What do you mean rate yourself? On a scale of 1-10? Yes. That’s what he was asking. I still didn’t understand. 10. That was my answer. I’d give myself a 10.
I had coffee with a good friend the other day. We were discussing a variety of things and I can’t remember what led to the question. It brought me back to my childhood. Sitting around, giggling, developing a random system that we would use to rate any potential crushes. It made sense as a child, maybe even as a teenager. But at 33, sitting in a coffee shop, enjoying great company and an adult conversation, I’m confused by the question.
“A 10? You’d give yourself a 10?”
Why wouldn’t I? Ok, clearly I’m not playing this game right. I ask him for clarification. What exactly am I supposed to be grading myself on? Maybe I need an example. So I ask him how he would rate himself.
“Well, my personality, I’d give myself a million. That’s a give in. My body, ummm, maybe a 7. My face, 7.5. So, I guess overall maybe a 7.5 out of 10.”
What the fuck just happened??? He thought about this. He really, seriously, sat here and thought hard about what marks he would give himself. Now I’m even more confused. Here is someone who I consider one of my best friends, sitting across from me, telling me that he would give himself a 7.5 out of 10. The only thing I agree with is the score he gave himself for personality. I have a hard time with a 7.5. That’s a B. Barely the kind of mark that gets you accepted into higher learning in school. This whole concept is starting to hurt my head. I look at him and see a 10. I see someone who is perfectly flawed and wonderful. Someone who has a smile that lights up the room, a sense of humour that has everyone in stitches, a respectful, caring, hard working person. Across from me sits a man who sets the bar high for other men, a good example of what any human should strive to be. I’m adding up the numbers in my head and nothing seems to make sense. So, now it’s my turn. Well my answer is still a 10. I give myself a 10!
“You’d give yourself a perfect score?”
Yes. I don’t know. Why is he trying to make me second guess it. I love myself. I may not have always, but I do now. I start to consider the criteria.
My personality. I love the person I’ve become. Maybe others wouldn’t give me a 10 but I would. I will happily spend the rest of my life with me. 10!
My body. Now I’m really thinking here. Sure, my body is covered in scars and stretch marks but do I subtract points because of that or add points because of what each mark on my body represents? I find it hard to think that growing three humans inside me would somehow bring me closer to a failing score. No, I’m going with a 10. It’s nowhere near what “perfect” is often described as but it’s perfectly representative of the life I’ve been fortunate enough to live. 10.
My face. I spend most of my day smiling. I laugh when something is funny. I cry when I’m sad. My face shows the range of emotions that my wonderful life experiences. Sure, I’m getting older but the lines on my face are a testament to the laughter I’ve shared with family, friends and other wonderful souls I’ve had the privilege to know. 10!
Yup, I am a 10. I give myself a 10. Yes, I’m perfectly perfect to me.
As an adult, I’ve never been asked to do this. I’ve never even considered it. I’m not sure what giving myself a 10 makes me look like in the eyes of others, but I don’t care. I was asked how I would rate myself on a scale of 1-10. I give myself a 10. You should too.
And miles to go before I sleep 