Skip to main content

PERFECTION: And why I don't want it (But it is so hard not to)

I came across this video today: Would you be happy with perfection?

It reminded me of the reaction people in other countries have when they try to understand why I see myself as imperfect. There is usually the follow-up question from them as they try to understand my worldview "but if you were thinner, wouldn't that make you someone else?" or "...but aren't you the most perfect version of you?"

Over the years, I have placed a lot of effort into tuning out negative messages about women's body images. But it takes a lot of work, I will often see really attractive women (by mainstream standards) and wonder why I couldn't look like them. Every time that thought comes into my mind I force myself to think: "Okay...would you want to spend 30 minutes on hair, 60 minutes on nails, 30 minutes on makeup, how ever long at the gym?" and then I remind myself that, I wouldn't, to look the way I do reflects that I made different time and financial investments than others have. In fact, we all make those decisions based on what we enjoy doing in life, or what we have access to. So we look like what we have and what we enjoy doing. So a woman who enjoys putting on makeup will spend more time putting on makeup, whereas a woman who enjoys reading will spend more time reading.

It is easy to think of this rationally, but it is another to face the world looking a way you are not expected to. That is really difficult task and one that requires a lot of work, but I am relieved to see in this video that the women were somewhat weirded out by the appearances of them that meet mainstream standards. They are almost upset that what makes them perfect versions of them has been deleted, and that is sooo reassuring.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

INTRODUCTION

How or where do I start? Well, more than a year ago I set up this space with the idea that I would blog my little heart out, but here I am now just barely starting off. You should know that I have no idea what I am doing and that I am finally doing this because, well, I don't know that either. I am a professional in my early 30's living in Central, PA. It is finally dawning on me that the job I am doing now is probably the job I will be doing for the rest of my life...great for "stability", but terrible for having something to look forward to. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, I help people all the time and my co-workers are wonderful, but it's almost like a courtship, I wish my profession would "court me" a little more, that it ought to worry that one day I wouldn't be here anymore and therefore should be nicer and more spontaneous with me. Does that sound odd? Probably, but that is how I feel...maybe it's a professional 7 year itch thing...

WITH APOLOGIES TO MY BODY AND ONWARD WITH GRATITUDE

For the first 40 years of my life I hated you. As a young child I hated that you were neither fast nor strong, as a teenager I blamed you for not having the flexibility that could get me into Julliard, as I lifted weights, I was angry you were not strong enough and as I became a lawyer I hated you for being the kind of body that helped me be a good lawyer.  I didn't just hate you for my reasons; I also brought in people into my life that dumped their own self hate onto you and I agreed with them. You were blamed for their alcoholism, their inability to have an erection, and for holding erections for far too long, for their sex addictions, for their premature ejaculations and for their general unhappiness, what is worse; my hate for you was so strong, I could never fully trust anyone who loved you. But then last year I was in an accident. It would have killed anyone who had a different body than you. The insurance assessor assumed the owner of my car had died and my chiropr...

MOTHERHOOD: A SITE OF VICIOUS NEGOTIATION

I woke up this morning to a baby puking on me while smiling unapologetically. For the first time her lack of inhibition worried me. This Mother's Day, I thought I'd be reflecting on being a mother for the first time and jot down some mushy words, instead, I think back to the day I walked in on my mom having greater aspirations for my daughter than she did for me.   My dad raised me to thrive in the world I deserved, my mom raised me to survive in the world I was born into. Needles to say, my dad's parenting was liberating and empowering, my mom's was stifling and suffocating, so of the two parents I always rebelled against HER. She would often say that I was created fighting her given how difficult her pregnancy was with me. She was right, my earliest memories with my mom are of our arguments. We fought like the swords of two warriors: I was driven by a desire to be free and capable, her by fear that I might suffer consequences the patriarchy metes out to misbehaving wo...