perfect

I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday and we were sharingscomplaininglaughing about our up-until-now funny, failed attempts at dating.

She claims that her problem is that she is like a teenager trapped in a woman's body upon meeting a man of interest for the first time. Where all of her teenage insecurities rise to the top and she reverts to a young insecure girl who pushes men away romantically before they push her.

I, on the other hand, am fine with the flirtation dance. I'm good at that piece. My failure is how to function within the relationship once the casual, performing phase is over and sh** gets real. That's when my "pushing" begins.

Laughing about our collective awkwardness we decided that if we could merge our strengths into one woman we would be unstoppable. We'd be close to perfect. We'd conquer the world.

When I was a little girl, a family member pointed out to me that my ears stuck out like Dumbo. I was a pretty little girl...but from that day forward, I never wanted to wear my hair pulled back. I refused to wear pony tails or barrettes in my hair for fear my ears would show.

And then in middle school an older boy pointed out that I had thick ankles. And that my calves were too big. From there-on-out, I was self conscious about wearing shorts or short skirts.

I had a great singing voice and had dreams of becoming famous...singing on Broadway, recording an album...but I literally told myself that I couldn't really be a singer or be famous because physically I wasn't perfect. And how could I go to Hollywood and not wear my hair pulled back or show my legs? Because once people saw that "flawed" part of me...that would outshine all of my talents...they would stare at my ears, my legs and all of that admiration would dissipate.

I think most women do this to themselves. We think "if only I had this", "if only I did this", "if only I looked like this"...my life would be so much better. I know women who isolate from the world--who are unhappy with how they look...or their careers...or their relationships. And they are waiting to come out of their cocoons until they get to a point where they are closer to their visions of perfect. They are afraid of being seen. Of rejection. Afraid of life being less than what they want...because they are telling themselves that "they" are less than ok. Being afraid of a lesser life becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

"You are too sensitive Beth"...is the critical statement echoing in my head right now. A voice tells me that if only my skin were a little thicker that I would be a better mother, a better friend, a better partner/lover/girlfriend/wife. I've thought if I could somehow get a hold of this trait and squish it into a new and improved shape that my life would be different, be better.

I've been writing about this trait a lot. It's the pendulum swing. I've gone from hiding it to screaming it. I look forward to when the pendulum simply centers on acceptance.

So who is the "perfect" woman? Couldn't "I" be the perfect woman? What if everyone in the world was as sensitive as me? Maybe we would be kinder to each other... Appreciate the sound of the ocean more... Create more art...

But that would be saying that there was something wrong with people who are different, who are more analytical, more cognitive. So creating a new version of "perfect" is simply the mirror image of the same problem.

Everyone talks about the issue of women striving to live up to false ideals. The true irony of it is that we now all feel flawed because we are worried about striving toward "perfect". So we are hard on ourselves for being hard on ourselves. It's a never ending plummet down the rabbit hole. It's the image of a mirror facing a mirror and on and on.

So back to my friend and I discussing how we would be the perfect woman. If we could merge into each other we would have perfect legs and nice curves. We could walk up to a man and charm the heck out of him. Enter into a relationship where we can talk art and sports. And cry appropriately. And be patient. And fun. And live happily ever after.

But when I think about the most beautiful parts of life...they are often imperfect...

my 2-year daughter saying "what dat noise was"?
the scar on my lover's lip
an ocean after a storm
family laughing about an inedible dinner
a singer's voice whispering, cracking with emotion
oyster shells
stretch marks
watercolors
fall leaves
an elderly couple holding hands
crackle glass

So I think we all know that there is no perfect. And that we shouldn't strive for something we can't attain. We know there are false ideals that exist. And that we beat ourselves up for not being better.

We "know" all this. But we don't feel all this. I think we just have to be more aware of what we think. And say. And do. And not do. Because it does become a self-fulfilling prophecy when we assume by "being" that we will create a less-than-perfect life. We miss out on all the beauty of the imperfections by closing our eyes out of fear.

Over and over I've read the phrase "perfectly imperfect". I think I prefer "imperfectly perfect".