art above and below by Valfre: www.valfre.com
Perfect Girl: A girl who attains just the right amount of smooth hair, hair that is free from the time-consuming shackles of frizz. The kind of girl who neglects to sweat and after yoga you enviously observe her as she clumsily throws a healthy handful of naturally gold-strewn tresses into a ponytail (I hate the term ponytail, it sounds like something a sex-offender would say, don't you think?), and it somehow looks neat and tidy, (perfect!). She is the kind of girl who actually goes to yoga, on a regular basis (and is committed enough to purchase a package of classes). Her face is made up of delicate skin carved from expensive porcelain, it’s surface so smooth it’s as if she’s never set foot outdoors (like the sun has never penetrated her oh so precious/virginal pores). She appears to have never experienced the nightmare of a teenage identity crisis, been prescribed antidepressants, shamelessly puffed on a toxic cigarette, been called a whore, been kicked out of class, questioned her sexuality, taken a horribly embarrassing/twisted drunken tumble in front of a crowd, gone home with the wrong person for the wrong reasons, found herself red in the cheeks whilst being felt up by airport security, engaged in self-sabotaging behavior such as: face-picking, binge-eating and drunk-dialing, nor has she been dumped by a jobless loser she didn’t like anyway (all of which have most definitely happened to me, at least once). Everyone likes her, and she doesn’t have a “blurting” problem. She’s pretty, in that totally accessible, attainable and all “American” way. Her agent sends her on “girl next door” castings (or would if she WAS an actress, which she’s NOT, because an actress tends to be far too complex of a creature to classify as a perfect girl).
Me: I’m not one of those perfect girls. If I do go to a yoga class (which is rare) I’m usually left feeling bored and agitated (the pressing stillness and ever-expanding quiet, doesn’t do well for me), wishing I would have spent my $20 on a blowout or a new lipstick from MAC instead. I identify as more of a “cigar-bar-in-Manhattan” kind of girl then a “vinyasa-flow-in-Santa-Monica” kind of girl. My hair rebels against the brush and I don't think I’ve ever achieved a sleek ponytail in my entire life (I’ve accepted that it might not even be possible). In High School I was more notorious then I was popular (I was the first in my class to get a tattoo, that was my legacy). I’ve always been a girl who absolutely can’t help but speak her mind, for it’s a force greater then me (especially when it comes to delicate topics: social issues, reproductive rights, religion, fashion I find to be hideous, gay rights, personal music preference). I have scars. Sometimes my voice takes on a loud, booming quality that my brother claims is reminiscent of a fog-horn. I was born with an incurable, sick sense of humor. I’m interested in what makes you tick and what turns you on (not what you do for work). I’m often deemed offensive to the politically correct--I get a kick out of making sweeping generalizations and mocking sub-cultures. I smoked cigarettes from age sixteen to twenty five, and quitting was one of the most harrowing processes of my life. I have felt a ton of shame, unrequited love, and anxiety. I don’t hide it well. My agent never sent me on “girl next door" castings (and when they did, I didn't get a callback).
There was a time when all of this greatly bothered me. I felt alienated, as if I didn’t fit in anywhere. I would gaze at the perfect girls with their perfect engagement rings and perfect dinner parties and perfect pictures with other perfect girls, and wish my life were easy/comfortable like theirs. I wished I could keep my big, annoying, mouth shut and join in with the chorus of delicate giggles I could hear echoing from the other side of the room, where the perfect girls sat. As I grew older/wiser I learned that so very much of the perfect girl image is merely a façade/window-dressing. I discovered that a lot of perfect girls were deeply unhappy with unfulfilled desires, and were simply living up to what they felt was expected of them. More importantly I learned that I don’t want to be a perfect girl, not at all. The depression, the restlessness, and anxiety I used to be so ashamed of feeling, I now realize is what allows me to truly empathize/connect with others. These "flaws" are what have fueled the desire to act, the ability write, and psychological understanding necessary when directing plays. Acting, writing, and directing is what makes me feel happy, and I wouldn’t trade an ounce of my angst in for risk of losing those passions. I’m proud to be single, and to not have settled into a relationship that neglects to satisfy me because of the fear in being alone. I’m not done impulsively traveling, and there is nothing in the world that is holding me back or tying me down. My friendships are flawed, but they are one hundred percent real. The older I get, the more I discover that a lot of my “flaws” maybe aren't flaws at all, but character. And character is interesting!
It’s totally okay to want the white picket fence life, but it’s equally ok to want to live in a studio apartment in a dirty city with a fleet of kittens. There are so many ways in which to live. There are so many different versions of beautiful. Don’t beat yourself up for not looking like the most popular girl in your high school, for being the last standing single one in your group of friends or for still chasing your rock star dreams while everyone around you seems to be working in finance. Embrace it, don’t fight it. You have to accept your own idea of happiness, beauty, and personal style before any of your dreams will come into fruition.
Important To Note: The world would be a bleak, boring and horrendous place if it were full of perfect girls. We need difficult, complicated, loud, scarred, opinionated, beautiful girls (like you) in this world. For it’s you who makes this universe interesting, dynamic, diverse, funny and fabulous!! It's you who inspires us to take risks and think outside the box.
Me: I’m not one of those perfect girls. If I do go to a yoga class (which is rare) I’m usually left feeling bored and agitated (the pressing stillness and ever-expanding quiet, doesn’t do well for me), wishing I would have spent my $20 on a blowout or a new lipstick from MAC instead. I identify as more of a “cigar-bar-in-Manhattan” kind of girl then a “vinyasa-flow-in-Santa-Monica” kind of girl. My hair rebels against the brush and I don't think I’ve ever achieved a sleek ponytail in my entire life (I’ve accepted that it might not even be possible). In High School I was more notorious then I was popular (I was the first in my class to get a tattoo, that was my legacy). I’ve always been a girl who absolutely can’t help but speak her mind, for it’s a force greater then me (especially when it comes to delicate topics: social issues, reproductive rights, religion, fashion I find to be hideous, gay rights, personal music preference). I have scars. Sometimes my voice takes on a loud, booming quality that my brother claims is reminiscent of a fog-horn. I was born with an incurable, sick sense of humor. I’m interested in what makes you tick and what turns you on (not what you do for work). I’m often deemed offensive to the politically correct--I get a kick out of making sweeping generalizations and mocking sub-cultures. I smoked cigarettes from age sixteen to twenty five, and quitting was one of the most harrowing processes of my life. I have felt a ton of shame, unrequited love, and anxiety. I don’t hide it well. My agent never sent me on “girl next door" castings (and when they did, I didn't get a callback).
There was a time when all of this greatly bothered me. I felt alienated, as if I didn’t fit in anywhere. I would gaze at the perfect girls with their perfect engagement rings and perfect dinner parties and perfect pictures with other perfect girls, and wish my life were easy/comfortable like theirs. I wished I could keep my big, annoying, mouth shut and join in with the chorus of delicate giggles I could hear echoing from the other side of the room, where the perfect girls sat. As I grew older/wiser I learned that so very much of the perfect girl image is merely a façade/window-dressing. I discovered that a lot of perfect girls were deeply unhappy with unfulfilled desires, and were simply living up to what they felt was expected of them. More importantly I learned that I don’t want to be a perfect girl, not at all. The depression, the restlessness, and anxiety I used to be so ashamed of feeling, I now realize is what allows me to truly empathize/connect with others. These "flaws" are what have fueled the desire to act, the ability write, and psychological understanding necessary when directing plays. Acting, writing, and directing is what makes me feel happy, and I wouldn’t trade an ounce of my angst in for risk of losing those passions. I’m proud to be single, and to not have settled into a relationship that neglects to satisfy me because of the fear in being alone. I’m not done impulsively traveling, and there is nothing in the world that is holding me back or tying me down. My friendships are flawed, but they are one hundred percent real. The older I get, the more I discover that a lot of my “flaws” maybe aren't flaws at all, but character. And character is interesting!
It’s totally okay to want the white picket fence life, but it’s equally ok to want to live in a studio apartment in a dirty city with a fleet of kittens. There are so many ways in which to live. There are so many different versions of beautiful. Don’t beat yourself up for not looking like the most popular girl in your high school, for being the last standing single one in your group of friends or for still chasing your rock star dreams while everyone around you seems to be working in finance. Embrace it, don’t fight it. You have to accept your own idea of happiness, beauty, and personal style before any of your dreams will come into fruition.
Important To Note: The world would be a bleak, boring and horrendous place if it were full of perfect girls. We need difficult, complicated, loud, scarred, opinionated, beautiful girls (like you) in this world. For it’s you who makes this universe interesting, dynamic, diverse, funny and fabulous!! It's you who inspires us to take risks and think outside the box.
 | “This is how you survive the unsurvivable, this is how you lose that which you cannot bear to lose, this is how you reinvent yourself, overcome your abusers, fulfill your ambitions and meet the love of your life: by following what is true, no matter where it leads you.” |
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