Perfect Imperfection

I returned to an empty house this Wednesday evening after dinner with family; my father's 52nd birthday celebration. One roommate was on a date, the other at a concert. 

I did minimal tidying up in the kitchen, the sugar at the bottom of my morning coffee cup was crystallized by the heat of a day spent in my car. I walked upstairs to my room, kicked off my heels and sat down at my vanity, where my Mac camps out most of the time. I enjoyed the quiet, so I chose to leave my T.V. and music off. 

I put my hair up and clicked on a lamp; starting to browse blogs and think about sleep, when I looked up and caught my reflection in the mirror. 

You look pretty right now, I thought to myself as I went back to reading. 

My immediate next reaction was: When was the last time I told myself that? 

Honestly? It's been a while. 

For some reason I've been focusing solely on my flaws recently. I haven't looked at myself without mentally assessing imperfections: you need more sun, you need to take care of that blemish, you need to exercise tomorrow, etc. I now feel exhausted by it. I'm better than this. I won't say that I don't care about appearance at all, because that would be a untrue, but in no way should I find myself so preoccupied with it. There are too many things about myself to like to get hung up on what I consider shortcomings. 

Perfection is not in the cards, but I find that realization kind of perfect in and of itself.

I heard a definition once: Happiness is health and a short memory! I wish I'd invented it, because it is very true.

-Audrey Hepburn