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I'm completely anal retentive to the point I often walk in circles crossing my T's and dotting my I's. I can't stand clutter or disorder, and even though I get pretty messy, I don't relax or think straight unless everything is tidy and in order. If my underwear, socks and earrings don't match, it's just a lousy day.
I drive my husband and boss nuts because everything has to be "just so" before it goes out. I color coordinate all my case binders. I can't just wash a load of laundry; I have to strip the linens from all rooms. Once my husband tried to go to work wearing mismatched socks and I nearly had a coronary. If I stick a stamp on crooked, I have to peel it off and restick it. Imperfection causes me great anxiety, which is why I'm such a nervous wreck.
So why doesn't this anal attitude roll over into my eating routine? Why doesn't my brain demand perfection in that area?
This one's for Francesca. How many people thought I was going to talk about back door sex?