Perfect is boring

Every once in a while, I take her out from under the dust again. Once received from Mr. X who always hammered on self-confidence and self-love. Something that I, as a perfectionist through and through, sometimes forget. From the moment I folded the first corner in her, I call her my bible, my self-help book. A collection that every woman should have on her shelf.

The courage to be imperfect reads like a plea to learn to love yourself. It makes you stop continuously comparing yourself to others or thinking about what is still missing in your life. For us millennials, in a time of ‘how do I get the most followers on Instagram?’, hashtags, filters, and photoshop, something we deal with 24/7. And if it's not on social media, it happens in the gym or at the lunch table during noon. Because why does that chick on the street have four more blocks projected on her intensely tight stomach and how is it that that stunning colleague now also shows up at the office with the Chanel that has been at the top of your wish list for so long?

The crux of the matter is that when we measure everything against someone else's success, we will never be satisfied ourselves. There is always someone who is more fun, prettier, or has more in their bank account. When will we take off those glasses and start embracing our deviations? Will we stop running away from our own problems? Will we help another when things aren't going well? Will we learn to love ourselves and another instead of constantly feeding ourselves with the poison called perfection? According to my self-help book, this is the way to ultimately arrive in a world that is perfect. But then differently perfect than what we are currently dealing with.

I know, it all sounds easier said than done, but can we at least try? Even if you start by folding a corner in my self-help book...