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

THOUGHTS ON MOTHERS, FASHION AND BODY IMAGE

It wasn't until I was 13 years old that I learned I was fat. That was the year I moved to the United States and began to have a difficult time finding clothes that fit appropriately. I never really thought about that change until much later when I would look back on childhood photos and was surprised by how well my clothes fit, and how well-dressed I mostly was. As someone who is very fashionably challenged, I was surprised that at some point in time, I knew how to dress well...and I seemed to have lost the skill once I had many clothing options. When did I lose that skill? I began to explore that phenomena and quickly came to an odd realization. In the U.S. I clearly always had more clothing options that I ever did in Venezuela. Ready-made clothes in the U.S. were affordable so everyone could buy them. That was the key, in Venezuela, ready-made clothes were very expensive, so not too many people purchased them. In fact, I don't remember my mom buying anything ready-mad...

I CAN'T PASS JUDGMENT ANYMORE

I know all of my friends are loving the ease and convenience of carrying books around on a Kindle, or whatever the gadget of the day is, but this move to electronic reading is really affecting my ability to judge others, yes, you heard me right-judging others is now difficult. It used to be that I could sit on the train and just by watching book covers, and their respective readers, I would get an idea of what books I might like. Now, everyone has a kindle and I can't really derive reading recommendations without appearing to be a stalker. But worse than that, new friendships are severely affected. I used to be able to walk into someone's house and look at their bookcase and know whether I should run the other way-now, the non-visibility of books makes identifying incompatibility so much more difficult. For example, if someone were to walk into my house, this is what they might see:   You would be correct in making quite a few assumptions about me based on this ...

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...