Outside Reading Card, 3rd Quarter

This I Believe Essay - Rough Draft

Imperfection

by Sharmaine Sebastian c/o 2013

Perfection. A simple yet complicated word. Everywhere I look, everywhere I am, the pressure to be perfect is always there. I have never been the petite, pretty girl that every boy dreams of. I have never been the smartest, quick-witted student that everyone else envies. I have never been the perfect child that every parent wishes for. I’m just an average teenage girl with many imperfections.

I remember sitting on the couch at home during a typical Saturday. I watched TV while trying to finish homework. I decided to give myself a break and grab a snack from the kitchen. As always, there was nothing but a bag of potato chips. I settled for that and walked back to the couch. A commercial started to play and it was about “having the perfect body”. I felt awkward watching this commercial even though I was at home alone. I admit, I don’t have the best physique as most people and that’s something I’m not proud of. It’s not that I really hated myself for being the way I am. It’s just that the pressure to have that perfect figure made me think that way. After the commercial ended, I looked at the half-empty bag of potato chips, put it down quickly, and ran to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror for a good five minutes pointing out the many things wrong with my outer appearance. “Perfect? Is there even such thing?” I thought to myself.

There were many times where I questioned the meaning of “perfection” and in different situations as well. At school, I’m pressured to have perfect grades. Not only because of my parents and teachers, but because of competition with my other classmates. I’m a very competitive student. I always compare my grades to others discreetly. If someone gets a higher grade than I do or gets straight A’s and I don’t, I tend to question how they got the grades I wanted. Also, at home my parents always complain how I don’t do anything around the house, how I don’t always do the things they want me to do, how I don’t always listen to them. The thing is I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. Everyone does.

Growing up, I learned that there is no such thing as perfection. I have met people along the way in my journey of life that have the same problems I go through everyday. Sometimes worse. If I were perfect, I would not be human. I believe that it is part of human nature to have flaws. I may not be the most prettiest, the most intelligent, the most obedient, but I am human. I have imperfections and they define me. This, I truly believe.