There’s this thing, and it keeps coming up, and it’s kind of a problem. It affects us all, and is expected of us all, at various points of our lives, despite it being virtually unobtainable.
I am of course talking about perfection.

It’s almost a cliche, the perfect relationship, the perfect date, the perfect job, the perfect body. There are countless guides, books, websites and gurus out there vying for our attention, all with the solution to how we could achieve this divine goal, and countless people reading, absorbing and devouring this information.

I could go on about why they do this, why we do this. We could get all analytical, break it down, and think how lucky we are not to be fooled by this perfection scam. We could do this dear readers, but we’re not going to.

Instead, let’s look at the perfect body. (Shush now at the back, don’t think I can’t hear you…)
Say you could change something about your body. It wouldn’t cost anything, it would be painless, quick and have no risk of fucking up. What would you change?

If you say nothing then I would have to ask, have you genuinely never felt the desire to change something about your body in your entire life?
Is it possible for someone to never, even slightly, ever feel any pressure in regards to their personal body shape, from the countless glossy magazines, airbrushed photos and brutal put-downs of anything different?
I honestly don’t think it is.
I am a strong person. I love my body, its shape, its quirks, its scars, and the way it is so definitely my body, with my experience, and my life, written all over it.
But I still feel that pressure. If it was easy, I’d get a nose job, I’d have smaller feet, maybe I’d do something about my brow, even though it’s only me that notices it.

This pressure is there, and I feel it. I don’t conform, I am a woman, and I am something more besides, yet I’m made to feel like something less.
Our expectations of what someone should look like is based on this perfect image that we’re spoon feed through everything around us, and it erodes us, and makes us fear imperfection.

Here’s what I know. The things I’d change about myself are the things people have said they love about me. I see my face and see all its flaws, I see scars, I see a nose that’s too big, and eyes that are too squishy. (My mouth, that’s pretty fine, just so you know).
The people that have loved me though, they don’t see that. My friends that love me now, they don’t see it either. What they see, as far as they’re concerned, is perfection.
I know, beauty, beholder, eye, you’ve heard it all before, but thing is, it’s true. It’s why we have this problem in the first place. What we judge as beauty, what we judge as perfection is so unique, and it’s also so easily influenced, both in a good and bad way.

So this is my mantra. This is what I try and say every time I feel my perception of beauty and perfection becoming tainted by something I don’t want to taint it.

Perfection isn’t something to be strived for, the very idea of perfection is flawed and broken, no, perfection is something to be ran from with all our might.

We need to grab each others hands, and run headlong into those so called flaws, those supposed imperfections, because they are very often the things that make us unique, the things that make people fall in love with us, the things that will, given time, make us mighty and proud.

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