By: Kelly Keenan Trumpbour
Women get a bad rap for wanting things “perfect.” I know because I tend to seek out perfection, just not in the Martha Stewart sense. (My idea of a centerpiece has nothing to do with pumpkins, turkeys or flowers. Instead, I let my cat pose on the tabletop. Who doesn’t like kinetic art?)
No, by perfect, I mean living an ideal. It often feels like most women are on a quest for the ideal job, the ideal mate, the ideal hair-do. And not just any ideal – your personal ideal, tailor made, and custom built. It calls to you, and you alone, in a soft haunting voice across the wilderness – that version of perfect. (But, please, call someone if your hair-do is whispering to you across the universe. That’s bad.)
Do we tend to get caught up in unnecessary pursuits of perfection? Yes. What clothes we buy, how we wear our hair, these things are there for our enjoyment only.
But what we do with our lives, whom we commit to, this is the important stuff. And we are one of the first generations of women to truly make our own calls. As much as we want them to be our calls, and no one else’s, it would also be nice to know we were making good choices. Perhaps this leads to a little hyper-vigilance. But no one said freedom and responsibility mixed easily.
Where do you seek perfection? And is it worth it?