Perfect=Boring

**Originally posted @LJ on 1/25/10**

From the earliest memories I have of my mother, I can always remember her telling me how beautiful and smart I was.
Nevertheless, I grew up to become a very awkward and self-conscious pre-teen.. I had huge issues with the way I looked, and no matter what my mother said, it never changed the way I saw myself in the mirror.
I began telling myself, “She’s wrong. I’m not beautiful.. I’m so far from perfect.”
My pre-teen years went by and my teenage years came along. I was a beautiful, energetic and happy teenager, overall, but I still saw myself in a different light, no matter what my mother told me. I wore baggy clothes and carried a skateboard. I spent most of my time with my friends who were predominantly male. My looks became less and less important to me, as my mother always said they would.. and she was right, as usual..



Then, I became pregnant with my first child, a little girl. The emotions that I felt during my pregnancy were overwhelming.
I became closer with my mother through those months, apologizing for everything I had said, and didn’t mean… for now, I was going to have a daughter of my own.. and couldn’t bear the though of MY little girl making me feel the way I was certain I had made my own mom feel at times.
When Hailey was born, I held her on my chest. I touched her hair, I grazed her eyelashes with my pinky. I stroked her chubby little fingers.. I felt her tiny heartbeat with my hand. I listened to her breathe, in and out, in and out.
She was wrinkled. She was red. She was covered in goo and tiny little hairs. She was perfection.
My mother sat quietly next to me and her new granddaughter. She watched us silently, reminiscing about her own daughter's birth. Feeling life spin around her as she became a grandmother for the first time.
I whispered to her, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen, when you told me I was perfect, it means more to me now…”
She smiled, still not breaking her gaze from the sleeping baby I held on my chest,
“I never told you that you were perfect.. I said you were beautiful. I would never want you to be perfect, perfect is boring.”

Wisdom.

Wisdom that comes with age, with experience. Wisdom that I hope to pass on in such a impacting way to my daughter.. even if it takes her a lifetime to really understand what it means.
Needless to say, the birth of my first child changed my body dramatically. I no longer had smooth, young skin. the stomach I had before was now riddled with silver flames, with extra skin. And still, with the knowledge that I am still beautiful, just changed, I have trouble accepting these changes. I have a husband who is evolved and mature enough to see the beaut in my imperfections, and yet I still cannot see it for myself. I try. I do.. I try to see myself as being a different kid of beautiful, if not for myself, for my daughter.

This is what I want for my daughter.
Not to to reach desperately for the impossible, perfection.
I want her to find beauty in imperfection.. because that kind of beauty is original.. it has a story, a past, and it’s anything but boring.