Perfect. adjective: being entirely without fault or defect: flawless.
I told my client this morning that her body was perfect. I meant it.
Then she told me something that her 6-year-old-son Will said and I realized the err of my ways. It is brilliant and I will now steal it and use it in class. Quoting Sir Will, of course.
He’s just learned the word ‘extinct’ at school. He comes in and says :
“Mom, why isn’t the word ‘perfect’ extinct since nothing is perfect?”
My point exactly, Will!
Why hadn’t I said this yet? (Because often 6-year-olds are smarter, more observant and more honest.)
He made this deduction himself after the constant reminder from his mom that no one is perfect.
As I often say in class: Perfect people are boring people.
I even said it on Good Morning America! (Aren’t they though?)
All jokes aside, at some point I forgave myself for not being perfect. For many years, I struggled with an eating disorder and the feeling that I had to be/look perfect. This nearly killed me, in many ways. I still struggle with this in yoga class at times, I won’t lie to you. We all do. But it’s a silly notion, this extinct idea. I am committed to not being perfect. Conforming absolutely? Who wants that? Excellent beyond improvement? Blergh.
To be clear, we are perfect. Perfectly imperfect. I can’t hear well. That’s ok. My nephew has Prader Willi Syndrome and Autism and he is perfect as he is.
It’s this idea of perfection as something outside of ourselves. As something better than ourselves. As something someone else has decided. The idea of perfect as something unattainable.