Imperfections — in things, in people, in places — add character to life. Tell us about an imperfection that you cherish.
- I have an obsession with speech impediments. I am attracted to the “normal things” like Channing Tatum, manners, good teeth, British accents, chiseled features, dark-tall-and-handsome. But something about a good stutter gets me so excited. A nice stammer? Yes, please! King’s Speech was like the greatest two hour segment of my life.
- I LOVE large birth marks. Like big ones on your face, discolored, especially patchy white ones. I also like burn scars. Writing this down, I realize this might sound weird, but I am being honest. I am really attracted to disfigured speech and disfigured faces. I think to cherish it, as the prompt suggests…I’m interested in the story – the real story behind the burn or the one we make up about the birth mark. I want to touch, to love, to be sensitive to them. Love.
- Freckles. Oh, I love freckles.They say “A girl without freckles is like a night without stars.” Therefore, I am a mostly starless night. Anne of Green Gables always tried to bleach hers away, but I’ve always thought they were so beautiful. My own skin just turns brown, thanks to some Hawaiian blood. But most of my family’s skin is covered in these little, adorable, too-many-to-count freckles. I’ve been so jealous of them, one year my family bought me a special makeup pencil to create freckles on my face.
- In Christmas Trees – the more lop-sided and off-kilter, the better.
- In cookies of any kind – I like all imperfections, because that means I can eat them to even out and pretty out the bunch, and not feel guilty.
- In an order of french fries from Jack in the Box – I love that one curly fry that sneaks in, “ruining” the french fries, but it’s like this totally awesome BONUS fry from the curly ones you really wanted to have.
In myself, this took more thought, but….I’m chubby. Always have been. I can’t remember any moment in my life when I wasn’t dieting, exercising, worried about what I looked like. There have been dark moments with drastic measures – I can remember punching my stomach and thighs repeatedly in fits of rage until they bruised, or holding scissors against my fat rolls until I bled, and worse.
Feeling like I was not the “right size” causes pain in my life. But at times, it also does me a favor.
I feel safer, because I’m not the sexy girl anyone is trying to make eyes at. When I was traveling, I was the chubby funny translator for my hot girlfriends the boys wanted to make it with. Being chubby has made me quick-witted, because I deal with a lot of teasing. It has made me sensitive towards others. It gets me outdoors, hiking, walking and active, and so I see beautiful things. People trust chubby people. People want to hug chubby people, to be friends with chubby people, and cook with them, and party with them, and tell them secrets.
It’s kind of okay to be the shape I am. It’s actually totally okay. I’m healthy and I work hard and I play hard; I feel good and that’s what’s most important. And I think my boyfriend’s very appreciative looks and comments have been very helpful in erasing every negative comment I’ve ever heard or told myself. (Boys – take note. Nothing lights up a woman like being told she’s beautiful.)
My curse is my blessing is a part of me that has taught me so much, and I will cherish the “me” it makes me.
The imperfections we ignore or wish away at or waste energy on hating lose the lesson that God intended for us.
The best imperfections are made perfect when we learn from them.
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