Every time I think of "B.H.A.G.," I don't think so much of Big Hairy Audacious Goal as I imagine a version of the woman pictured above.
She wears evening polyester in the day time, drives a Lincoln Continental, and smokes Virginia Slims. She has a hoarse voice, Revlon sticks to her teeth, and she loves the slots in Reno.
The B.H.A.G. is really only fun when she arrives (a.k.a., you think of a new goal you'd want to achieve, you smile, and she appears, saying, "We're doing this, sugar booger. Come on!"). She's also fun when she leaves (a.k.a., you complete your goal, breathe a sigh of relief, and she disappears in a pink poof).
The rest of the time, she can be a pain.
As you toil away on whatever big, audacious adventure is in front of you (writing a new script, losing those last ten pounds, paying down debt, etc.), she hangs around, clipping her toenails and sipping her Bartles and Jaymes. She tests your commitment.
I've dealt with many a B.H.A.G. in my life. And although I don't necessarily like her, my life would be blander without her. She pushes me outside of my comfort zone and challenges me to question things. Without her, something would be...lacking.
I need the growth she inspires. Otherwise, I'd just have a paint-by-numbers life.
(And not even she'd want that.)