There is something beautiful about imperfection. Those words rang in my ears for a long time. How can this be? We see the tall, thin, beautiful women who do commercials for numerous products, and their message is that image is the way all women should look. The men who are hired to promote products are all tanned, well-built men who look like they haven’t shaved in a couple of days. Look at Hollywood, home of the beautiful people. When an actress has a mole, an imperfection, on her face, the media call it a beauty mark. Life at times seems to be all about appearance. If two people of equal ability are interviewing for a job, and the one is a blonde, blue-eyed sun goddess, and the other is a short, overweight person with eclectic tastes in fashion, who do you suppose will get the job?
Why do we hold so much stock in physical attractiveness? And why do we think perfect is a good thing? We currently have the ability to make digital recordings that virtually take all the imperfections out of the performance. Yet, at some level, the performance becomes lifeless. We do a disservice to ourselves when perfection becomes a goal. I am an imperfect woman in oh so many ways. Still, I know that I am loved by my family and friends with my imperfections. There is, indeed, something phenomenally beautiful in imperfection!
Resist the temptation to set goals of perfection. You do not have to look a certain way, act a certain way, wear the “right” clothes, be the “right” size, say the “right” things or know the “right” people. As a child, we would visit my aunt’s house every Sunday. Everything there had a place, and everything was always in its place…her house was perfect. It was also cold and unwelcoming! Our home was delightfully imperfect and welcoming. It met our needs and was a delightful place to learn and grow. Its imperfections were phenomenal. Beauty IS in the eye of the beholder. I see the beauty in you and admire your imperfections.
Thirty-five years ago, Maya Angelou stated this exquisitely for me in the opening stanza of “Phenomenal Woman”.
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
It’s in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Celebrate your phenomenal uniqueness!
I Care, Barb