I am not perfect. I don’t know anyone who is. In fact, I’ve never met anyone who even remotely fits the term. As a female, I have unusually large feet. As a human, I’m so pale that I probably glow in the dark. And as a person, I’m the strangest, most eccentric, and most contradictory person many will ever meet. Society tells me that as a female, I should be dainty and graceful, whereas my ten-toed size elevens often cause me to barrel into things much like a blind elephant. Society tells me that my skin should be bronzed and radiant, whereas my European background makes me blend in with the white walls of my dorm room. Society tells me that I should make sense, whereas my personality and my being is just one huge oxymoron.
I believe that perfection is boring.
I believe that perfection is unattainable and, frankly, unwanted.
I believe in flaws.
I have two best friends. They are seen by most to be incredibly flawed individuals, and yet their flaws are what I love best about them.
The first is the son of two professional bodybuilders. His name is Haygen and he is the loudest and most obnoxious person I have ever met. He has an obsession with scarves, hats, Project Runway, and only loves movies that involve some explicit situations, huge amounts of gore, or mass homicides. He has the hands of a pianist and the nose of a Roman warlord. He always says the most inappropriate things at the worst possible moments. He’s incredibly awkward, and I wouldn’t change a thing about him. If I removed all the defects, all of his imperfections, all I would have is a boring, empty shell of a Haygen. And though he may be more socially acceptable that way, it would be a sad sight to see.
My other best friend’s name is Erika, spelled with a ‘K’. She’s sarcastic and abrasive. She sings while she cooks and has the loudest, strangest, least feminine laugh I have ever heard. Her hair is a literal mane that rivals any 80’s hair band and she sometimes goes on spastic rants about the most obscure things. She curses like a sailor, loves to hate Tyra Banks, and has an almost unhealthy obsession with her ferret, Mr. Teeny. She listens to indie music, downloads illegally, and is the weirdest and most awkward dancer I have ever seen. And I think that those are her very best qualities.
Flaws are what make us human, what make us unique and individual. They stop us from being a race of carbon copied, human-shaped dolls. That’s why I embrace my flaws. Sure, they may not be desirable or even accepted, but they’re what makes me ‘me,’ and, even better, they’re mine, and mine alone. I am not perfect. I’m indecisive, odd, awkward, confusing, and flawed. And that’s the best part.
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