NOBODY'S PERFECT
I remember the first time I felt flawed. I was eight and my friend Sherry was nine. She had really straight, thick, dark brown hair with perfect bangs. My hair was dirty blonde, really fine, and too frizzy for bangs. I really wanted bangs but couldn’t have them. I was flawed.
As I got older, I noticed a lot of other flaws. I was short, my front teeth stuck out, my nose was big, and I had moles. But that’s not all—there were flaws on the inside too. I wished I was funnier or more courageous or smarter or more talented.
Naturally, I hid my flaws. Then one day I shared my flaws with a friend. Unexpectedly, she shared her own flaws with me. We bonded over our shortcomings, and, incredibly, they started to seem pretty insignificant. The more people I told about my flaws, the less power they held over me and the more I actually started to like them.
Maybe it’s about making a choice. We can either feel terrible about our flaws or we can take a different route and embrace them. I might not have perfect bangs but I am ME and no one can pull that off as well as I can.
