According to Marilyn Monroe, “Imperfection is beauty.” If only our world would agree with her. Thanks to advertisers, that isn’t the case. We are bombarded on every turn with photoshopped beauties and air-brushed perfections — it is easy to make that the acceptable norm, the club everyone wants to be in.
But what happens to those of us that can’t measure up to that unspoken, underlining standard? It is way too easy to lapse into depression and discouragement in the battle to measure up and feel valued and “normal.”
What, too, about those of us who have added imperfections like deformities? Why is it so hard to still see our own beauty when there are surface abnormalities or extra pounds or wrinkles? I see beauty and character in those around me, with delightful quirks of personality shining through their eyes and expressions. Whether they are what people call imperfect or not, they are beautiful. I see it in others, yet struggle to see it in me, or feel it in the sense of myself.
There is a BTS song that talks of realizing that oneself is “not so perfect, but so beautiful” and worthy of our own love. That epiphany they expressed has helped me as well. But early messages run deep. Being raised on the Breck beauties of television and every decade’s beauty poster star since then, that default standard is hard to ignore.
Recently it clashed with my newly acquired deformed status — and I feel horribly guilty and childish to be emotional about that. After all, I’m incredibly lucky to have caught kidney cancer early and to survive it so easily. An asymmetrical shape is a small price. But in our world, it doesn’t always seem so small a price.
Others have this reality from birth or injuries, and they really humble me at the graceful way they live confidently with their set of realities.
About a year ago, when a promised remedy was ruled out, I hit rock bottom and retreated to my kids for their wisdom and support. While there, my daughter and I watched “KPop Demon Hunters” together. It is amazing to me where answers come from when you are seeking. God definitely has a sense of humor.
Without giving too many spoilers of a quality movie for all ages, there is a point where a character “breaks” into pieces after finding a new reality that is horrifying to her. She talks of trying to fix it and fight it, that her thoughts were twisted and her heart divided until she broke down completely. Then she learned to see the beauty in herself — to see her scars as part of her and let the imperfections shine instead of covering them up. Through her I’m learning to see my imperfections as a part of my own unique beauty, a richness of harmonies that have more depth than a single melodic line does, however beautiful it may sound. I’ve always been drawn to harmonies; now I get to live a harmony.
I’m reminded too of the Japanese approach to fixing broken vases and china dishes. They don’t find a transparent glue to make the mend as invisible as possible and restore the object to flawlessness. Their approach is the opposite. They glue the piece back with beautiful metallic, shiny adhesives that create added beauty to the piece, boldly accepting the new design. They would agree with Marilyn that imperfections are beauty.
But beauty isn’t an either/or: either perfect or imperfect. Rather, it is a spectrum. According to Coco Chanel, “Beauty begins the moment you decide to be yourself.” If that is true, then we have a vast spectrum of beauty in this world. One that shines with each person’s personality, passion and character.
Or, we could. The “KPop” character also spoke of bringing our hidden imperfections out, finding each other’s harmonies and being united in facing the world. Could one avenue to unity be in accepting the diversity of beauty in each of us? And in ourselves? I’m starting to think so. Perhaps we need more barbershop quartets in this world.