I’ve always been a little obsessed in being perfect. It’s not that I am the world’s most perfect person. Like hello? Messy (at certain levels, for certain things) and clumsy (oh, like all the time?) – that’s far from being perfect. What about saying the darndest things that I unwittingly say that makes everybody laugh at me? Well, that’s just excellent.

But I’ve embraced certain flaws of mine and turned them into perfection, for without them I wouldn’t be the wonderful, quirky person that I am. Self-centered too, you may add.

However, other than the quirks I have accepted to be a part of me – I hate any other kind of imperfections that I may develop or find in myself. When this happens, I deal with it really badly. I cannot seem to accept that I might have “imperfections” that wasn’t there before.

Well when you have a mum who obsesses and critics everything about you, you’d probably turn out a little like me. I can never get too dark, put on a little weight, have pimples, doing ANYTHING in a way deemed way wrong – without her getting on my back and harping about it.

I can never, ever please my mum and that’s a fact. And FP once told me that it’s because of this obsession with perfection that I try doubly hard in everything I do. Everything must be done to a certain level of perfection that is in my head. Most of the time, this strive for perfection works and pays off.

But when they don’t, like I have mentioned before – I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Just yesterday, I discovered something that I couldn’t imagine ever happening to me. It needn’t be anything negative/bad by societal’s standards but to me, it was the world crashing down on me. And all I could think of was, “Mum’s right”. And I just cried and couldn’t stop crying.

FP was right there when it happened. He held me tight and comforted me, telling me that everything will be alright. That we will work something out to make it all better. It’s gonna take some work, but he’s going to help me through it.

So in a moment of a discovery of such an imperfection, came a moment of perfection. FP has always loved me despite all my quirks and imperfections and I am very thankful for that. I am indeed a very lucky girl to have such an understanding boyfriend who stays by my side when everything (in my head) goes terribly wrong. Not only does he stay by my side, he also goes through the fire with me.

Beat that, Chace Crawford.

On a side note, I’d just like to share this quote I’ve found on Perfections. Or Imperfections, rather.

Congratulations! You’re not perfect! It’s ridiculous to want to be perfect anyway. But then, everybody’s ridiculous sometimes, except perfect people. You know what perfect is? Perfect is not eating or drinking or talking or moving a muscle or making even the teensiest mistake. Perfect is never doing anything wrong – which means never doing anything at all. Perfect is boring! So you’re not perfect! Wonderful! Have fun! Eat things that give you bad breath! Trip over your own shoelaces! Laugh! Let somebody else laugh at you! Perfect people never do any of those things. All they do is sit around and sip weak tea and think about how perfect they are. But they’re really not one-hundred-percent perfect anyway. You should see them when they get the hiccups! Phooey! Who needs ‘em? You can drink pickle juice and imitate gorillas and do silly dances and sing stupid songs and wear funny hats and be as imperfect as you please and still be a good person. Good people are hard to find nowadays. And they’re a lot more fun than perfect people any day of the week. ~Stephen Manes, Be a Perfect Person in Just Three Days!

Food for thought, don’t you think?