why i am glad i am not perfect.

sometimes by around 5 30 when i have been on campus since 9 i look at myself in the women's restroom mirror and this is what i see: eyeliner smeared around the corners of my eyes, jeans that have become perpetually baggier as the day has worn on, greasy hair that is frazzling in interesting ways, usually with greyish roots since my real hair color is called stray cat grey by most color charts, clothing that doesnt match nor seem to fit my body correctly, and a new zit forming on my lower lip. i have never been one of those girls that always look perfect, with flawless skin, coordinated ensembles and a sassy smile, and even if i try real hard, i never will be. i am not sexy. i am just a mess.

beyond the fact that i am a physical mess, i am an internal mess too. i am never on time. i always seem to crinkle every paper i own. no matter how often i vacuum my car, there are always crumbs on the floor. i say the wrong things at the wrong time. sometimes i forget to read my scriptures. sometimes i exercise, sometimes i dont. i am opinionated, loud, introverted and extroverted at the same time, emotionally unstable, and care way too much about everything. i wear unsexy costumes at halloween. i love diet dr pepper and i drink way too much of it all daily. i encourage chevron employees to fulfill their life dreams and acquire tattoos of hearts with wings. laffy taffys are my favorite food group. i lose my wallet 6 times a day.

in the official kingdom of marriage also known as provo, perfection seems to be the ideal. sometimes at 6 30 am, i look outside into the snowy darkness, and there are four girls out running in 9 degree weather. i know girls with 4.0s that have never missed a class in their lives. I know girls that always look perfect, never daring to step out of the house without their foundation and mascara on. i know girls that pretend they dont fart. i know girls that would never consider seeing an R rated movie, never consider thinking an ill thought of someone else, never admit they are sad or angry or occasionally cuss in their heads or say something that would hint at them being anything but perfect people that come from perfect families and do perfect things and think perfect things and act in perfect ways.

i used to want to be perfect. i used to think in order to trick a man into loving me, i had to be perfect. i used to think being righteous meant being perfect. but one day, while downing 32 oz of diet dr pepper while wearing orange mesh shorts some like to describe as my lesbian shorts, i realized it is all one big fat lie, and that being perfect will land you in a mental institution or on mass amounts of antidepressants. NO ONE is perfect, and being a good person does not mean being perfect, or even working on becoming perfect. the problem with being perfect is that perfection like what i am describing is not REAL. REAL people are not perfect, and people that put on the pretense of being perfect are not facing reality. perfection is a big hoax based far too much on everyone else's opinion and holding in your gas at all times. the problem with perfection is there are always people that are going to be more perfect than you. so if you don't figure out something else to be, you're going to end up almost perfect with another perfect person beating you out for prom queen of perfection. you're going to end up with pneumonia because no one should run in 9 degree weather. you're going to never experience what its like to say what the hell and miss your class so that you can go jump in mud puddles with your galoshes on. you're going to end up with an eating disorder, because not everyone is naturally thin and gaining weight is part of life and it happens to everyone. you're going to end up trapped in a box of perfection, desperately attempting to cover up your imperfections so no one finds out your secret that you are a real human being. you're going to end up living all the rules of religion, without ever figuring out why you are living them or what the real meaning of being like Christ is. you're going to end up thin, accomplished, poised, polished and absolutely miserable.

I think this quote probably sums up my thoughts on the matter perfectly: "but nothing important, or meaningful, or beautiful, or interesting, or great, ever came out of imitations. What is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself. More difficult because there is no zeitgeist to read, no template to follow, no mask to wear. Terrifying actually, because it requires you to set aside what your friends expect, what your family and co-workers demand, what your acquaintances require, to set aside the message this culture sends...and then look, everyday, at the choices you are making, and when you ask yourself why you are making them, find this answer: because they are what I want, or wish for. Because they reflect who and what I am" (Anna Quindlen).

I am not, in any way, promoting being mediocre. I think it is good to strive, to work, to long, to push yourself. But I think that all of these things need to be done in reality, by real people. And I think that because a person wears a bikini or isn't super woman and cook and clean and get straight A's and aspire to be the best homemaker and relief society president and iron their sheets everyday and never have emotional breakdowns or says something bad about someone else, doesn't make them not righteous, or not good, or not a fabulous person. I think it just makes them REAL. I think we probably all need to give up this quest for perfection, and start on the quest for progression. We need to face reality, we need to accept ours and others flaws, which are sometimes not even flaws, but just idiosyncracies that make us individuals. We need to realize that really we are just commanded to love and that is what brings us to God, not wearing perfect clothing or exercising perfect amounts or smiling perfect smiles. We need to embrace our individuality, our unique identities, and enjoy being a mess, and use that mess to become more loving, more beautiful people. I will never have perfect eyeliner or get up at 5:30 AM to read my scriptures for three hours a day. i will never be prom queen of perfection, and neither will you, and I am FINE WITH THAT, so I think you should be too. I am glad I am a mess. I am glad I can chew with my mouth open, laugh too loud, fall asleep in church, admit that I suck at several things and eat like I'm four years old, have opinions other people don't agree with. I am glad to be me and not someone drowning in nonreality. I am glad I left the cage of perfection, a free bird in mismatched clothing singing the praises of imperfection. it's a much better way to live provo, i promise.