Disappointment

Life is made up of disappointment, right? Wrong. At least in my bubble of a world, disappointment is hard to come by. And so when lightning strikes, the impact is that much worse. 

Whiiiiiiiiich is why these past few weeks have weighed down my heart just a few notches.

Let me explain how I am and how I see people. In Fig. 1, you can see the obvious problem. Some call it a curse, others may call it a blessing. I don't know what I call it. Whenever I meet someone, ("hi how are you? I'm kimber. I like naked mole rats.") I instantly take a liking to them. I assume they have my best interest at heart, choosing the right at all times possible, and do their best to make the world and community a better place. Think I'm exaggerating, don't you? Again, please refer to Fig. 1 below. 

Figure 1

I don't believe that there is a problem with this "way of seeing things" until I find out something or someone has violated the picture I have created for them in my head.

What I find odd is this: people are who you tell them they are. And I believe this to be 95% true (there's always those people who shock you). Most of the time I think people act differently around me than they do around others. Or maybe the "good" in them is the only part I look for, so it's the only part of that person I see. 

In other words, I expect out of people is what I see. My expectations of others is what lets me down in the end. And so in Kimberland, I am hardly ever disappointed because the only one who could ever disappoint me is myself. I'm setting myself up for disappointment!

And so then sooner or later I am told about a fault of a few of my perfect friends. ("No of course, it's not true. They would never do that.") But then they did and then it's true and then my heart drops down to the bottom of my stomach. Really though, it's not their fault. I can't waste away my days lecturing them and crying over them and playing sad songs on my ukulele in memory of who I thought they were, Because it was ME who disappointed ME.

And then you're like, what can you do from here.

Perfection!

To be perfect.
It's something we all strive for, essentially, but is it truly attainable?

per·fect/ˈpərfikt/

Adjective:

Having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be.

I've read countless stories, articles, journal entries,etc. about young girls trying to become this ideal. Whether it be with personality, looks, or interests. As a society, at least as teenage girls, we look up to those who have already succeeded. We want to be those people; we believe we can be those people.

Though eating disorders are mental disorders, there is no doubt that the media plays has an effect. Models in magazines, on television, and in movies are becoming younger, taller, and thinner. The average weight of a model who is 5' 8" is 110 pounds. These young women are critically underweight, and it is almost impossible to meet up to that standard.

When I was thirteen, my life was a mess. Maybe that seems a bit dramatic, but the "tweenage" hormones definitely took their toll on me. I wanted to be perfect. I stopped eating breakfast and dinner, and strictly stuck to a plate full of lettuce for lunch (to this day, I loooooove lettuce). But would being thinner actually make me believe that I would magically become perfect? I kept this little "healthy diet" up until I almost blacked out in gym. I can't help but think about those girls who don't eat at all, who end up looking shriveled and fragile and small. Is that what they think perfect is? Again, it's essential to know that anorexia and bulimia nervosa are mental disorders, but there must be a reason that young girls look towards changing their image as a way to fix their problems.

But in reality, who is to put that measure on perfection? Can it be measured? Does there come a point when being too perfect can be too much?

"You're skinny. You're perfect."

That sounds ridiculous, but isn't that what the media says on a daily basis?

Maybe I've been so hooked on this idea of "perfection" lately because I've been concerned about my weight. This year I quit ballet in hopes that I could volunteer at the local homeless shelter when I turn sixteen. The loss of the dance classes this year has definitely not been worth it (yet), if you look at my weight change. It's been harder than I expected, and I've been trying to pinpoint why. Are looks so important to me, that I let how much I weigh put a value on my worth as a person?

And then I get to thinking... without the media, would we have that ideal "perfect" image to live up to? Is it to be someone we're not? Or is this drive for perfection something that always has been ingrained in us?

I don't expect anyone to follow what I'm saying..

Goodniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!

Nothing has changed...

This is the weirdest thing of my life.