Forget perfect.
Perfection is procrastination.
It distracts us from fulfillment.
Yes, perfection can be satisfying – but true joy springs from letting go.
Maybe a diamond can be entirely without defects, but I am not a diamond.
In fact, I’m not even a diamond in the rough.
I am flawed.
I was born flawed. Something happened in the womb and my left leg didn’t develop properly.
By the age of eight, my left leg was 4 inches shorter than my right. I couldn’t hide that.
I wasn’t “normal” – I was a “cripple” and that meant I wasn’t socially acceptable.
But that didn’t stop me from wanting to fit in.
I tried to earn a place in the world by chasing perfection in academics and work. I vowed to meet and exceed every expectation anyone had for the “normal” girls.
That meant I couldn’t be myself.
And I definitely couldn’t draw attention to my defects!
I wore outfits that drew attention away from my legs.
I adapted the way I walked so I didn’t limp.
I learned to hide my imperfections.
To pretend I was someone different.
I thought being perfect would make me acceptable.
That somehow I’d become someone who others would acknowledge and celebrate.
I chased a mirage.
Perfection is an abstract concept that keeps moving the finish line.
It took me decades to realize that imperfection is my gift.
My physical handicap reflects who I am.
My left foot is a size 4 – a child’s size.
My right foot is a 6 ½ – an adult size.
I am half child, half adult.
I play and I am responsible.
I’m both left brain and right brain.
I have a strong creative a side and a rational, problem-solving side.
Seven surgeries and years of physio made me conscious of my health: I am fit and energetic.
When I had my tattoo designed, I asked the artist to change the shape of a perfect bonsai.
I wanted a crooked trunk.
I wanted my tree of life to reflect that I have scoliosis due to my leg length difference.
I may not be perfect, but the tattoo is perfect: it reflects beauty in imperfection.
Where are you perfect in your imperfection?
