Guide to Perfection

So on the spur of the moment, just in time for the Jewish New Year, and for my impending 30th birthday, I decided to get a haircut.

I’ve had more or less the same long-curly-shedding-all-over-the-place mess on and off for like 14 years or something. So I was like “meh, time for a change.”

So I cut it off at about halfway down my neck, with longer locks in the front. I told my cousin “Now, I can no longer do the metal headbang, but I can totally rock the riot grrrl headbang.” It’s two different styles. The main difference is that the former goes up and down or in circles, and the latter goes from side to side.

In any case, when I showed up at my family’s place with this new do, they all reacted as I expected they would, “Well, it’s about freaking time!”

Though, some had the nerve to add what I’ve already complained about in former posts: “You should have also dyed your hair.”

Since getting pissed off about it was getting redundant, I decided to go for the annoyed, sarcastic humor and responded “Well, yeah, you know, I was considering the two longer locks as electric jet blue, but then I thought my boss wouldn’t like it too much.”

One of them even said “Had you dyed your hair, you would have looked perfect.”

Truth of the matter is, even if I would have dyed my hair, they would probably find other things that need to be changed: “Had you worn a dress, you would have looked perfect… had you shaved your arms, you would have looked perfect… had you bothered to powder your nose a bit, you would have looked perfect…”

“I’m already perfect, thank you very much,” I said with a frown.

It’s enough that girls get all this “perfect” poison from the media, they don’t need to get it from their families, too. And it really is poison, because although these comments are shallow, they reach a place deep down within women’s minds and destroy them from the inside out, telling them they’re never good enough, never pretty enough, never perfect enough. This awesome drawing by Diane Lindo illustrates this very point.

Seriously though, fucking piece of shit. I’ve had enough of people telling me what I “should have” done, or what I “should” do, or what would make me look “perfect.” Perfect in the eyes of who? Of you? Of them? Of a patriarchical society who never gave me a chance to be perfect as I am?

There are so many things, so many beings, and so many entities that I consider to be so much more important than all of those mentioned above, and whose opinion matters to me more. What about me? I rather be perfect in my eyes, in the eyes of the girl in the mirror, in the eyes of the inner child. And I’m already perfect in the eyes of my grrrlfriends.

Once, my friend Clementine, made a collage of the various offensive comments people make about her. One of them was “If you shaved, you’d be a 10. Right now, you stand at about 6.” I commented on her collage saying “If you shaved you’d be a 10. Right now, you stand at about a million!”

And that’s exactly what I say about myself every time I hear comments like “You’d be perfect if… You’d look so pretty if…” Well, IF I had balls, I’d be a dude, and nobody would tell me how perfect I would look if I would wear dresses and skirts and shave my arms and dye my hair. But the Mother Goddess, in Her infinite wisdom, decided to give me a big juicy pair of ovaries, hairy arms and messy hair with lots of grays. She also blessed me with this thing called free will. So I can choose whatever I want to do with my body, decorate it with tattoos, and not dye my hair.

Nobody can claim my body. I own it. It belongs to me. Get that through your skull. If one fateful day, I choose to dye my hair, it will be on my own terms, and it will be my choice. Just as I chose to cut my hair.

Peace, love and “We look so cute with our hairy legs and armpits.” – Mistress Distress.


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