But not being a concert pianist -- while definitely a limitation -- is probably not one that affects your day-to-day life. And if it DID, because you really wanted to be able to play at that level, wouldn't you be more likely to improve your piano playing if you acknowledged your limited skill and worked on it, rather than either pretending than you were already at concert level or stating that you will never play any better, so why bother to practice? (Note that I am not saying that you would ever make it to concert pianist level. But you might well improve your skills, neh?)
The example I thought of yesterday, because it came up during my day: At work I frequently get told how organized I am. Which I think is hysterical, because I am one of the least organized people I know. However, I acknowledge that limitation, and compensate for it. I journal voicemails and phone calls in Outlook, because otherwise I would never remember who I spoke to or when. I use the task list for silly little things, because otherwise I will forget them too. (And if I am away from my desk when I am asked to do something, and forget by the time I get back, I better hope someone reminds me later!) I use tape flags and sticky notes like they're gonna save my soul.
As opposed to my boss, who I think is innately actually less disorganized than I . . . but has a "this is who I am and everyone just has to deal with it" attitude. Both I and her secretary have tried to get her to use Outlook with little success, and it's not really a computer-literacy issue. Her limitations are part of how she defines herself, and she is stubbornly unwilling to change that.
My limitations certainly are part of what defines me, but I do my best to rise above them.
