On The Perfection Myth

When did it become so important to be perfect? The roomie/bestie and I talk about this allll the time. I really don’t get it. When did perfection become the goal? Why is it not okay to strive for anything less than perfection? When did it become an all or nothing? You’re perfect or you’re crap. Why?

Seems like folly to me.

Foremost because perfection is a lie.

Perfection doesn’t exist. In any form, whether it’s an accomplishment or beauty or intelligence or whatever? Perfection does not and cannot exist.

Here’s where the religious folk tell me their god is perfect and we are simply striving to be like him. Well, that’s one of my main issues with most religions. In the pursuit of perfection, we become to hard on our perceived faults and inevitably fall short. And if someone can’t fit in the mold for whatever reason, they’re screwed (or damned, as it were).

Well I say fuck that.

Perfection is not real and the pursuit of it only achieves unhappiness. We’re never happy with what we can do or have done or do know. Not that striving to learn and grow and become aren’t awesome things. They are. I’m a huge believer in life-long learning. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about not always falling short of perfection, in being happy with who you are in this moment knowing that you’ll inevitably learn and grow and change and it’s fine.

I don’t regret who I was ten years ago, but I like who I am very much today, and I can’t wait to meet who I’ll be in another ten years.

Par example, my whole life was in striving to be perfect for my mother, but I was screwed, but it would never happen. I would never be good enough if perfect was the goal. When I let go of that, I was finally able to pursue a modicum of happiness. And these past few years have been the happiest of my life.

But beyond the pressure of our parental units, we all seek perfection in one form or another.It’s ceased to be okay to be mediocre at anything; we have to want to be perfect at everything.

On the flip side, when did we become so concerned about self esteem that we can’t accept our limitations? Or teach our kids (your kids, really, since my cats think they’re pretty perfect just as they are) that it’s okay to suck at something and find something else they might be good at?

It’s okay to suck at something. It is! It so is. Or even to do something so-so. I’m a so-so cook. I really can’t play a sport that involves a ball of any kind. And I can’t draw for shit. How many times has someone, when I tell them of these things, told me not to put myself down! I’m sure you’re great at everything!

Um, no I’m not. And that’s okay. I’m not putting myself down. I’m accepting my limitations. I still celebrate my strengths, but in being honest with myself, I find a contentment with the talents I do have.

One of my fave photos, by Susanne Junker

I’m a promising photographer, a pretty kickass writer, and an aging dancer who was once a pretty promising dancer (and that’s ok). I read very quickly and have a fairly excellent memory. I sing alright, but rock at karaoke. I can't wield a bat, a cue, or a stick, but I swim with great form.

I have an eye for fashion, but don’t give two shits about spending too much money on an effing purse or pair of shoes. I have an addiction to H&M, Target, and book stores. I’m pretty good with my finances, but not so great at eating well every day.

I’d rather eat something that will dazzle my taste buds than something that is technically healthy. I have a great ass that has some cellulite. My boobs are small, but it’s nice not to have to buy sports bras. I gain weight easily in my stomach, but sometimes that makes me fell Botticelli-esque. My skin is sensitive and I have great hair.

That’s just part of me. Some great, some mediocre. And I like that! My self esteem is okay because I accept who I am and what I can and can’t do.

It’s okay. We can be happy with okay.

I don’t want my lovers to think I’m perfect or call me perfect. I’m not perfect and my flaws (if you can call them that) make me unique. And the higher the pedestal, the harder the fall.

No offense to Pink, whom I usually love, but I hate this song:

I appreciate her attempt, but think it falls short. Why is it nothing or perfect? I’ve never liked the “perfect to me” concept either. It just seems rife with condescension or something. Maybe that’s not the right word. Placation? That's not right either.

I much prefer Darcy’s line from the first Bridget Jone’s Dairy: “I like you. Just the way you are.”

He’s not saying she’s perfect. She’s obviously not. He’s not either. They both have countless faults. He likes her just the way she is. Not despite her faults, not because of them. Because she is who she is.

Isn’t that a lovely thought?

Would that we could love ourselves for the package we are and not for what we wish we were or hope we were.