Perfect Imperfections
Alright, my friends…this one’s for the girls. Allow me to set the stagefor our discussion today. As I type these words, I’m sitting in a back cornerbooth inside Mi Cocina, my favorite Mexican food restaurant in Dallas, Texas.This is our old stomping grounds, since my husband and I lived here for 5 yearsright after we got married. We’re here for the world premiere of a film heproduced, so for him, today is a day full of last-minute technical checks,press interviews, and all the red carpet hoopla one would imagine. For me onthe other hand, it’s a whole other world – one that actually began several daysago – so let me back up.
This week started off with the filming of a new product I’m about tolaunch. So, of course that involved hair, makeup, and wardrobe styling.During that day of preparation, here is what I learned about myself: I havemore gray hairs than I was aware of, my eyes are aging faster than they should,and one pair of Spanx apparently isn’t enough to compensate for my love ofchips and salsa.
As soon as that was over, we rolled right into preparation for a series ofevents and tapings I have coming up next week. I was once again reminded of mygross lack of gifts in the wardrobe and styling arena, along with my uttershock at the price tag of “looking good” these days. For someone like me whohas absolutely zero sense of style, it costs more to pay for someone to tell mewhat looks good than the price of the actual outfit itself. On top of that, Ifound myself feeling guilty for asking my stylist to stick to a budget whenselecting my wardrobe. It’s one of my goals in life to overcome my cheapmentality, and I have several friends who are trying their hardest to help meover that hump.
Now, as I sit here safely tucked away in my booth, but watching all of the“plastic” walk by, I am forced to come face-to-face with every insecurity I’veever battled. What do I mean by “plastic”? I’m referring to purchased hair,smiles, waistlines, and boobs. And please know, I don’t refer to them in acondescending way whatsoever. In fact, I’m making a mental wish list rightnow!
In addition to all of that, in Dallas I discovered a population phenomenonthat I refer to as “broke snobs”. What is a broke snob? Let’s be clear:It’s where you are dead broke. But you deeply hate the fact that you’re broke,you never intended to be broke, and truth-be-told you also have no plan forgetting un-broke, so you shop and spend like you’re not broke, you make fun ofother people for being broke, and at the end of the day it somehow makes youfeel better about being broke yourself. It’s a form of denial – and it trulytakes one to know one. How do I know this? Because I used to be one. Yousee, just a few short years ago, I made forty grand a year, but was thirtygrand in debt. My hubby and I lived paycheck-to-paycheck at best, but we feltcompelled to compete with the millionaires down the street. This is how womenwho make two grand per month are sucked into paying two grand for a purse – inone single transaction. And as a sort of play on words, another form of“plastic” is the plastic card we use to purchase things we can’t afford toposition us on the playing level we feel compelled to compete on.
So, even though I’ve been out of Dallas for several years, as I sit herewatching the beautiful Dallas plastic all around me, I’m flooded by thememories and temptations of trying to compete on that level. Oh, and beforeyou begin to look down your nose at Dallas (or defend it as a nativeDallas-ite), guess what? It has nothing to do with Dallas. This phenom existsall over our globe today. From Los Angeles to Phoenix to Chicago to Miami toNew York to London to Paris to Milan to Tokyo, none of us are immune to theepidemic of “Faux Perfection”. And for all of my small town friends, you runthe risk of being even guiltier of hometown gossip, rumor mills, and keeping upwith the Joneses, so don’t go casting judgment on the city girls for a splitsecond! Trust me…I’ve lived on both side of that fence, and the grass nevergets as green as we might expect.
By the way, don’t bother pretending like you don’t know what I’m talkingabout. For any and all of you fighting (or aspiring) women who refuse to letgo of your dreams, I feel your pain! Every single day, we’re confronted withour deepest fears: Is my hair the right color and style? If I could only losethis weight. Gosh, I need someone to come in and completely revamp my closet.Why am I always so tired? I’m so busy that I have absolutely no time formyself. Will all of this work pay off? Are my husband and I even on the samepage anymore? Do my kids appreciate me?
Can we make ends meet next month?What if I looked a few years younger…would that help? Why are my legs soshort? If I suck in just a little harder, do you think anyone will noticethose five pounds I gained last week? And, will someone please remind me whyI’m doing all of this anyway?!
So, later tonight, as I prepare to don my little black dress with newlypurchased accessories, I’ll just have to laugh at the fabulous absurdity of itall. I’ll paint on my suck-you-in undergarments, I’ll strap on my power shoes,I’ll hold my head up high and pretend to be completely confident. But all thewhile, I’ll second-guess every move I make as I compare myself to every otherwoman in the room. And, at the end of the night, after bursting with pride atmy hubby’s accomplishments, I’ll be equally glad it’s all over. Because,truth-be-told, I would be just as happy (if not more happy) at home in my fatstretchy pants, old t-shirt, and ratty slippers, with no makeup, funky hair,and my two-year-old crawling all over me.
So, why do I share all of this with you today? Because we all need to knowthat we are in the same race! The pursuit of perfection will never produce acrown. But if we can recognize the absurdity of our own behavior, embrace ourimperfections, and just agree to love ourselves (and each other) across thefinish line, this life would be so much more enjoyable. Anyone of us couldthrow on a happy face and fake a smile if we had to. In fact, we must do itvery often, just to keep ourselves moving forward. But, when we can begin toappreciate the art of collaboration over competition, the harmony of acceptanceand gratitude rather than the chaos of fighting for the next day, to get overthe rat race and learn to relax, then a whole new world will begin to emerge.
What kind of world? A world of wisdom, an echelon of excellence, and alife of liberty. So my dear, dear x-chromosome friends…here’s what I want youto do today. Walk over to your nearest mirror, stand up tall, roll yourshoulders back, give the biggest grin you can muster, and just have a goodlaugh at yourself. The fallen ‘do from the hairspray that didn’t hold thismorning, the eyeliner that’s already smudged, the pants that seem tighter thanthey did when you put them on, the new zit that just appeared – embrace yourimperfections! And, what about all of those thoughts racing through your headthat threaten to send you to the funny farm? Yes…I’m referring to the bills,kids, deadlines, bosses, men, family, emails, housework, and the medicaldiagnoses. Blow them all a kiss as you stare confidently into that mirror andrepeat after me: “I love you! I love ME! I LOVE MY LIFE – and all of thePERFECT IMPERFECTIONS that come with it!!”
Yes, there will be days when you’d prefer to sell them all to the gypsiesand start over. But just remember this: God created you in His likeness. He loves you just the way you are – and He has more planned for you. So stopfeeling sorry for yourself, stop beating yourself up, stop wishing you were ina different situation, stop blaming, stop making excuses, and embrace theopportunity to bloom where you’ve been planted. Because you have an amazingstory waiting to be told – and the world is waiting to hear it.
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