Perfection

Welcome to perfection; A metropolis for the aesthetically pleasing
To be a part of our elite group you must follow our simple rules:
Be yourself, as long as you do so in the right way
Fit in but don’t be a cliche
Love your body but not too much or we’ll tell you all the reasons you shouldn’t
If you don’t fit into size small we’ll call you fat and that will be your downfall
Perfection is a dictatorship and society is our ruler

When i was younger I saw a picture.
A picture of a girl with brilliant silky hair that fell halfway down her back like a waterfall
She has a smile that showed off her teeth, so pristine they gleam.
The light cascaded down upon her giving her an angelic glow
She had a waist of a disney princess and a gap between her thighs that I wasn’t sure was a sign of starvation or good bone structure.
But that didn’t matter for the bold letters above read PERFECTION.
perfection … without “flaw”

It wasn’t until years of doubt later that I realised that my perception of perfection had been defined by the skill of a photoshop artist. In their eyes perfect is expensive clothes and gaps between thighs but all they really have is a sick feeling in their stomach from their self told lies.
But I suppose we all have warped ideas of beauty because we live in a world where two words are drummed into our vocabulary as soon as the media gloved hands pull us from the womb; skinny, pretty, skinny, pretty. Perfect . . .
The only place we feel safe is hiding in skin we have been taught to hate and if you say otherwise no one believes you. Perfect.
The hatred is a pulsing beating being.
Perfect.
People are looking into the mirror and seeing shattered piles of society’s unattainable expectations.
A bar set so high it’s one of Nasa’s do not attempt files.
We use this illusion of perfection as a cause for a self dissection. But we don’t wield the knife.
Socially constructed perceptions of what we should be carve at us until we are standing with our weeping heart in our outstretched hand wondering why we aren’t perfect . . . but, no matter how much sugar spice and everything nice you will never reach perfection in the eyes of society.
We live in a world where people would rather stick their fingers down their throat than consume more than a certain amount of calories. Where body image is valued over personality.
When will we realise that being skinny is not counting calories
• that body positivity is not encouraging obesity
• that being beautiful does
not require the validation of others
• that perfection is a sick game society has made
• and we can choose not to play . . . because loving yourself is not a sin.
It’s time to break our metaphorical chains, to pick up the pieces of our shattered mirrors and put our heart back into our chest because we are all beautiful. Beautiful like laughter that lights up your entire face. Beautiful like the endless hues of red and orange during autumn. Beautiful like the symphony of stars playing their silent song in the sky. Beautiful.
Because we are all perfect.

Welcome to perfection; A metropolis for the aesthetically pleasing
To be a part of our elite group you must follow our simple rules:
Be yourself, as long as you do so in the right way
Fit in but don’t be a cliche
Love your body but not too much or we’ll tell you all the reasons you shouldn’t
If you don’t fit into size small we’ll call you fat and that will be your downfall
Perfection is a dictatorship and society is our ruler

When i was younger I saw a picture.
A picture of a girl with brilliant silky hair that fell halfway down her back like a waterfall
She has a smile that showed off her teeth, so pristine they gleam.
The light cascaded down upon her giving her an angelic glow
She had a waist of a disney princess and a gap between her thighs that I wasn’t sure was a sign of starvation or good bone structure.
But that didn’t matter for the bold letters above read PERFECTION.
perfection … without “flaw”

It wasn’t until years of doubt later that I realised that my perception of perfection had been defined by the skill of a photoshop artist. In their eyes perfect is expensive clothes and gaps between thighs but all they really have is a sick feeling in their stomach from their self told lies.
But I suppose we all have warped ideas of beauty because we live in a world where two words are drummed into our vocabulary as soon as the media gloved hands pull us from the womb; skinny, pretty, skinny, pretty. Perfect . . .
The only place we feel safe is hiding in skin we have been taught to hate and if you say otherwise no one believes you. Perfect.
The hatred is a pulsing beating being.
Perfect.
People are looking into the mirror and seeing shattered piles of society’s unattainable expectations.
A bar set so high it’s one of Nasa’s do not attempt files.
We use this illusion of perfection as a cause for a self dissection. But we don’t wield the knife.
Socially constructed perceptions of what we should be carve at us until we are standing with our weeping heart in our outstretched hand wondering why we aren’t perfect . . . but, no matter how much sugar spice and everything nice you will never reach perfection in the eyes of society.
We live in a world where people would rather stick their fingers down their throat than consume more than a certain amount of calories. Where body image is valued over personality.
When will we realise that being skinny is not counting calories
• that body positivity is not encouraging obesity
• that being beautiful does
not require the validation of others
• that perfection is a sick game society has made
• and we can choose not to play . . . because loving yourself is not a sin.
It’s time to break our metaphorical chains, to pick up the pieces of our shattered mirrors and put our heart back into our chest because we are all beautiful. Beautiful like laughter that lights up your entire face. Beautiful like the endless hues of red and orange during autumn. Beautiful like the symphony of stars playing their silent song in the sky. Beautiful.
Because we are all perfect.

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