mothers on the verge

I'll admit it, I'm a closet perfectionist. I should be on a 12-step programme.  My only saving grace is that my pursuit of perfectionism only applies to myself. I'm far more tolerant of others; I enjoy other people's imperfections and tend to dislike perfection-seekers. Because, let's face it, perfect people are often very dull. Not to mention smug and often uptight. All of which is not very endearing. So why do I persist in my pipe-dream of perfection? Why do I beat myself up when I act like an idiot (often), say stupid things (daily) and scream at Alpha and the kids like a fishwife (all the time)? Why do I feel cross and embarrassed every time I get lost when trying to read a map? Why do I over-apologise in a cringe-worthy fashion and feel ashamed whenever I'm late (being incapable of judging time can be a bit of a problem)? Why do I feel sick to my stomach whenever I've inadvertantly offended someone? Why do I feel utterly dumb when I play Trivial Pursu...