I know, you do it too. When somebody shows you a picture of their little wrinkled dough-ball of a baby you acquiesce to the urge and feign with your whole body that you're overcome by their cuteness.

But why??

Because deep down we all inherently know the terror somebody would face if everyone looked at their baby - and thought it was a hideous ugly creature.

That baby comes to represents you, and if it's ugly - everybody might start to conspire to kick you out of the tribe. Our acceptance hinges on them finding our baby cute!

And I've noticed every time I start procrastinating I've fallen for the same fear - this thing I'm about to do represents my inherent worth, if it sucks it means I suck.

• I don't feel like cleaning my room (means: If I do a half-ass job, I'm a slob)

• I don't feel like going for a run (means: If I get tired halfway, I'm a wimp)

• I don't feel like replying to that email (means: If I can't decide what to say, I'm an idiot)

Until it gets to be too much. And I reach a breaking point. Enough!

Cue Johnny Cash , "I'm gonna break! I'm gonna break my! Gonna break my rusty cage and run!"

And that's when realize the punchline. If I had a really ugly bulldog with slobbery crooked teeth and a snortling waddling walk - I'd find it absolutely hilarious. And I'd love the gremlin even more.

But you? Could you love your ugly infant the same way? Could you love your lazily made bed, your half-ass run, and imperfectly worded email just for existing and not for representing the ideal you?

Just call them ugly, have a laugh, and enjoy being fugly.