Overtime, I have reaped many benefits of being imperfect, clumsy, forgetful, messy, unorganized, curvy, loud and carefree. And I don’t think I’d ever want to be perfect! After all these years I now know there is a strange kind of addictive beauty in things that are imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete. You’ve got to allow yourself to be imperfect to feel it. Don’t be a hostage of perfection. Set yourself free from the stifling discomfort of being perfect. Being flawed is a beautiful thing.
