Obsession With Perfection

The obsession with perfection will eat the soul alive. A year ago+ I never would've posted this photo because the only thing I would’ve seen were my flaws. But then one day, I found a lump in my breast, & my obsession with perfection changed. After a lifetime of focusing on my flaws & dealing with all the issues that came along with it, I suddenly began to appreciate my body, imperfections & all. How sad, that for a lifetime I never fully loved myself or saw my true beauty. Even at my skinniest & most fit physique, I still didn’t see beauty standing in the mirror. There was always another flaw to focus on - obsess about. Don’t wait until your body becomes sick to realize how perfect you are & how beautiful you are. Appreciate yourself now. Curves. Bones & all. Focus on the aspects you love about yourself. Health & happiness is what’s important. Not the perfect body, the perfect face or the perfectly composed personality. Fixing the outside won’t cure the inside. Perfect doesn’t exist. Embrace your wild. Embrace your emotions. Embrace your authentic self. For there is only one of you, & you are perfectly imperfect. Chaos, curves, small-large breasts & all. 🖤 “I am, I want, I need, I feel. I am a woman & I want to-need to-feel fucking alive. I don’t want to be perfect. I want to shake my hair loose & let each strand breathe, so I can breathe too, exhaling fiercely like a lioness. I want to wipe the mascara off my eyelashes & cry like a tropical storm, rage like a no-joke hurricane, welcoming those salty waves to crash upon the raw shores of my cheeks. I want to rip off the tight dress that holds all my pieces oh-so-perfectly in place & just break the fuck open, fall the fuck apart. I want to stop looking in the all-omnipotent mirror & look in the murky depths of my soul instead. I want to come undone, because being done-up costs more than I ever knew. I don’t want to be shiny & flawless. I want to tremble in my rawness, shake in the blooming shoes of my identity. I don’t want to be a perfect woman. Because she does not breathe or laugh or cry or dance or shout or love. Because she does not exist. I do. & I want to be me.” - Sarah Harvey