I was looking out of my kitchen window the other day and watching the sky. It was a sunny day but with banks of clouding blowing past. I don’t become sentimental or wax lyrical very often but I was taken with how beautiful the clouds were with a range of shapes and colours and an ever-changing view. I’m all for the beauty of a clear blue sky but wouldn’t it be a bit boring to not have the clouds too?
I progressed even further with my sentimentally and began to think about my friends and how they’re much the same: frequently cloudy. I don’t think that I know anyone whom I call flawless and perfect. If I did, then I probably wouldn’t stay in touch with them for long. I’d be severely tried by their lack of blemishes, whether emotional or physical. What on earth would we have to talk about if everything was fantastic and life hadn’t thrown a few punches, leaving subsequent bruises? The media created automatons that we watch and read about are so dull that we desperately wait to have some dirt on them unearthed so that we can gloat. I don’t just like people in spite of their quirks, anomalies and faults; I frequently like them because of them.
Wouldn’t it be a boring world if we all had sculpted torsos and unblemished skin? The cult of hard bodied youth has its merits but, personally, I’m more intrigued by a bit of imperfection. My eyes will scan over a perfume advertisement model’s bronzed flesh with a barely recognised acknowledgment. Show me a perma-tanned youthful pop singer with airbrushed skin and I’ll show you a thousand others. However, show me a slightly battered and craggy older man and I’ll be much more likely to feel a tug of attraction and curiosity. In a Photoshopped world it’s good to reality check.
Wouldn’t it be good if we could be less influenced by what we see and weren’t so likely to translate it into what we want to be? It’s a very hard state to achieve. Who doesn’t want to a bit thinner/more bulky/less or more hairy and older/younger/better looking etc. etc.?
As New Year’s Eve approaches, if you must make resolutions (they’re a bit passé aren’t they, though, really?), then make them about being what you want to be and not what you think you the world wants you to be. Your flaws are so often what makes you fantastic and I for one, love you for them.
Chris is a theatre and book obsessed Midlander who escaped to London. He’s usually to be found slumped in a seat in a darkened auditorium.
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