- not perfect; faulty or incomplete.
- justin beiber’s face.
- every taylor swift album. ever.
- and, yes, even harry potter…. possibly the best fantasy book of all time (not including the lord of the rings because, you know, Tolkien sorta invented the genre).
The irony of saying “I’m perfect” is that “imperfect” is contained within the phrase. Perhaps it’s a cruel joke that linguists invented to highlight the simple truth that the struggle is real, y’all.
Imperfection sucks (or does it really?). And everyone’s selling a “cure” to beat that imperfection into submission like Christian Grey.
Fast food? Detox.
Crooked teeth? Braces.
Aging faces? Plastic faces.
Instagram? Filter, crop.
Maybe it’s because our culture is saturated with airbrushed models on glossy magazine covers. Or fitness programs promising us action hero bods — dad bods are so not in, guys — with six packs so impossibly ripped that if water froze between the crevices of muscle they would form into little perfectly square ice cubes. Maybe it’s that our iPhones are programmed to saturate our photos with colors so vibrant that they look warmer than the reality they represent. Maybe it’s that we’ve programmed ourselves to think of our imperfections as us failing to meet expectations. But the idiosyncrasies that define you are not faults; imperfection is simply the texture of who you are.
Let me give you an example. I love books. I love to read them, smell them, collect them, feel the texture of real pages beneath my fingertips. Like, I luuuuuuuurv books so much that I scribble messy handwritten notes into them — usually drafted in stubby green Crayon — to remind me how much I love them so can I return to specific pages in future readings. But even with all the green Crayon markings and puppy-eared pages and coffee / tear stained pages, I would never trade one of my copies for a “perfect” copy of the same book, courtesy of your local B&N. Why? Because those imperfections are what define the book, the journey those pages have been for me personally. Those imperfections give the book “texture.”
So the next time you pop that zit or filter that pic, just remember that your imperfections might be the best part of who you are. But do pop your zits…