When I was younger, I used to long for perfection. Maybe it was because I had been fed a steady diet of airbrushed goddesses. Whatever the case, I think when you are younger you feel invulnerable and search for the flawless in just about everything.
As I've gotten older, I've learned that there is something less satisfying about that. Maybe it's because I now know that there really isn't anything perfect in our human world. Even the young and the beautiful have their flaws. I've been noticing more and more that I don't mind the perceived imperfections so much. Maybe it's because I know that I'm nowhere close to perfect myself.
Whatever the case, I think I'm a little bit closer to actual acceptance.
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