If you really want to get to know me, rather than ask the repetitive question, take a glance at my room. The obvious expectations-makeup books piled high, cases of beauty products. A deeper analysis just might, have you noticing my perfectionism.
My clothes are organised into category and colour-my hangers match. Notepads left untouched from where I haven’t crafted the perfect writing. Old Hollywood glamour on my walls, books and films-the women who I want to look as immaculate as. My quest for spot on flawlessness has me amazed at the sheer fact I have managed to set up this blog.
Wanting the best can leave you forever at the start line. Waiting for the perfect person, or moment or day. The case remains-when do you accept you will never live up to your expectations? Being a perfectionist is frustrating. It racks at my self esteem and tenses up my face, grudging the fact I cannot create the most immaculate cake or make my bed so it matches the quality at “The Ritz”. These minor glitches one may not spare an inch of thought too, I analyse until they swallow up my confidence.
I never want to let a person get off the makeup chair. I want to meticulously inspect my work-every angle needs to be exact. My own face is a mess to find under eye creases or eyeliner smudged. Dramatic, of course. I say this as a woman who discusses her change from insecure and negative, to content and positive. I have learnt to like myself, be ok with me, to change my lifestyle. Yet I have to train myself everyday to not let the case of perfectionism spiral me down a well of self doubt.
In some ways I have beat the cycle. Last year I became a model, I changed my lifestyle, I let go of negative influences and at the very end before the New Year, I set up this blog. My life is more exposed than an open wound. The remarks still remain and with everything, progress takes time.
Apart of me thinks it stems down to embracing people and our flaws. Instead of teaching ourselves to accept who we are; teach ourselves to accept what we are not. I still have a notebook or two that needs writing, poems I cannot quite finish, and a room that has a long way before it reaches my ideal. Whilst I cannot change the desires I conjure up, I can make tiny goals towards them. Taking on small goals, means some perfection can be met.