When you pass me in the halls what do you see?
A girl walking to class. She looks very put together with a cute outfit on, her nails perfectly manicured, her hair perfectly straight and makeup applied perfectly on her face. She is holding a book or two in her arms to help her prepare for her AP Tests and she is walking with some friends laughing.
When you see me in class what do you see?
A girl sitting comfortably in the back of the room. With her notes in front of her paying attention in class. She is not the person that raises their hand but gets called on by the teacher when nobody in the class knows the answer to a question. She always gets it right.
That is me.
For some reason that is what people think of me. I have even picked up the adjective in regular conversation as being “perfect”. And while a lot of people think of that as the highest compliment one can bestow upon another I think of it as a curse.
Why a curse? Because it sets an expectation. An expectation to always have the most up to date clothes. An expectation to always ace my tests. Or to get into every university I applied to.
When this topic of perfection comes to mind I wonder if these people think these things are easy. Sure having a photographic memory helps me memorize things, but that isn’t applicable in AP Calculus. I worked 12 hours a week during the school year plus played a varsity sport just so I could have the money to get all the up to date styles. I woke up at the crack of dawn to go to the gym to stay healthy and in shape so I could pull off all my outfits. I physically and mentally exhausted myself trying to live up to this expectation.
And if I’m being honest my realization of my succumbing to this stereotype didn’t even come to mind until the other day. I was hanging out with one of my dear friends. We were sitting down and just talking about life and our plans for the future. And he turned to me and was like Paris, I know nothing about you, I know none of your flaws, just the happy things. He then proceeded to ask me the questions he was curious about that I answered truthfully.
When I got home that night and laid in bed and tried to go to sleep that sentence was stuck in my head. And I realized that I had become a ghost within myself. A ghost that only shows the superficial and positives aspects of her life.
This article has taken me many days to write and analyze and throughout this time I have realized that hiding my imperfections might just be the problem in itself. The amazing thing about the human race is that we have the ability to communicate with others in multiple forms, being words or actions. And that by depriving myself of that fundamental liberty that mother nature has given me, I am not only hurting myself but the others around me. Our imperfections are what differentiate us from other human beings and by not expressing mine I have turned into this stereotype, one that I do not want to become.
As I go into this next chapter of my life I have decided to embrace my imperfections. And train myself to think of the compliment “you are perfect” to mean good job in whatever you are doing, without saying the expectation of perfection.
