Yoyu Want Perfection? Go Buy Yourself a Barbie Doll.

Ashley - Laurens, South Carolina
Entered on December 6, 2008

I guess you could say it started the day I got her. She was so beautiful – her shape was incredible, her body was so flexible, and her hair was similar to the luscious, long blonde hair I remember watching on Herbal Essence commercials. Her fashionable clothes fit her just right. Her name was Barbie: Malibu Barbie that is.

Barbie became my best friend and I played with her all the time. She was what I wanted to look and be like. In my eyes she was perfect; she obviously was perfect for Ken too. Over time, though, I noticed that she started to look discolored and even her leg popped out of place, causing an odd look to her shape that was once so perfect. My heart was crushed and I cried and cried looking for someone to comfort me, or perhaps buy me a newer and prettier Barbie doll. My mother told me that Barbie was ok, and that even though her leg looked different, she was still beautiful. In other words, her beauty was different, but had not lost its value.

I believe that what makes each living person on this earth beautiful/handsome, are the imperfections that come with the person. The early years of my childhood reflected what was going through my mind through puberty and the pressures of people looking good on magazines and television. I myself have a disorder that causes me not to be perfect; I have Hyperhidrosis, an excessive sweating disorder. I am one of the only people I know that have had problems both socially and emotionally. I can’t write neatly; I was the kid sitting in the SAT room asking for a couple of paper towels to help dry off my palms so that the ink on the papers would not smear and my bubbles could still be readable. I have always had trouble petting cats and other animals at a friend’s house. Whenever I need to shake hands with a boss at an interview or even hold my boyfriend’s hand, I say that I can’t and it seems like I’m nervous, when really the sweating is doing its job by itself. When I was fifteen, I had to give up sports and learning piano because of the difficulty the disorder brought. After years of mean name calling and jokes like the infamous “Butterfingers” nickname, I have come to a conclusion. As I sit here typing with sweat marks on my computer keys, I know that I am passionate and sympathetic for you: the people that can’t see perfect, the girls that aren’t size two, the guys that can’t seem to get the muscular body and looks of Brad Pitt, otherwise known as the population that live with something that affects the everyday life. Hyperhidrosis hampers simple things like driving, grasping objects, and even determining employment at some places. Although I have hated my body and wanted to badly to change it, I have actually found that by me not loving myself for who or what I am, who else will? The saying, “No one is perfect,” truly declares that not even the “Barbie and Ken” doll type people in the world are happy the way they are. No matter what, every person dislikes something about themselves. However, a person will love themselves more and enjoy life more by just accepting themselves for who they are.