Obsession with Perfection

Obsession with Perfection

I am sick of seeking perfection. I’m just too tired now.

There was a time in my life when everything had to be perfect. School grades. Cleanliness. My rooms, my life. Then my kid came along and it all boiled down to one obsession.

My look.

Don’t worry — I’m better now. I funnel my perfection-seeking into my work, where I have a never-ending opportunity to practice saying “this is good enough.”

As negative as it sounds, I’m vain. Anyone can tell you that. I’m not ashamed. Vain, yes. Conceited, no — there’s a difference. Conceited means you think you’ve arrived. Vain means you’re still working on it. Unfortunately, my vanity is never appeased. Nothing is good enough, and just when I think I’ve found the perfect lip gloss, I’m off chasing the dream again.

I’m too old and tired to go bouts with having the perfect body, but the search for perfect makeup is eternal. Whoever can promise me the healthiest, shiniest, glossiest brunette hair is whom I buy the box from.

I own over 200 lip products alone, each one bought with “this is it” in mind. How can a lipstick make my life perfect? I don’t know, but I’m going to find out, damn it.

My collections also include failed searches for the perfect mascara, nail polish, foundation and skin care. Some I give up on. Some I go back to when I’m bored.

This unobtainable quest is quite expensive, if you can imagine. Yet this sick inner drive walks me into ULTA twice a month and onto Amazon daily, despite everything logic has to say about it.

Let Me Save You Some Money on Therapy

I could blame the media. Society’s expectations are always a good scapegoat.

Or I could go to therapy and pay a professional to tell me I’m a control freak who believes she has to be perfect in order to prove to the world that she is good enough to be loved. Childhood, probably. Something about a mirror.

See? I just saved you thousands in therapy bills. Now you can buy that perfect whatever it is you’re looking for.

You’re welcome.

But there’s a positive spin to all of this. I have found ways to utilize my obsession with perfection for fun and profit. My friends try all of my products so they can sample my findings, good or bad. I write about these things here and abroad to build my writing career. And of course, I’m contributing to the economy, so I’m a good American, too.

What All That Money Actually Bought Me

Here’s what nobody tells you about an obsession. Done badly, it’s a drawer full of regret and a credit card statement you read like a crime report. Done well, it’s research.

Twenty-some years of failed lipsticks taught me a few things no beauty counter ever would.

The Betty Rule: Buy the tester, not the story. The packaging is a promise. The tester is a fact. I have never once been disappointed by a sample and I have been disappointed by roughly 180 full-size products.

The Betty Rule: One in, one out. If a new mascara comes home, an old mascara leaves. I do not follow this rule. You should.

The Betty Rule: Thirty days decides it. If you haven’t reached for it in a month, it isn’t your Holy Grail. It’s a witness.

The Betty Rule: Practice “good enough” where it’s cheap. I can’t do it with lip gloss. I can do it with nail polish, with a Tuesday, with an email. Perfectionism is a muscle and it will absolutely take whatever you feed it, so feed it something that doesn’t cost $34 plus shipping.

And the one I’ve made peace with: the search is the fun part. If I ever actually found the perfect gloss, I’d have to stop looking. And then what would I do with myself?

The Part Where I Get Nervous

I’m getting nervous now, because I have found things for my hair, my skin and my foundation that are close enough to perfect to keep me from searching elsewhere. That’s dangerously close to contentment.

The lip gloss search will never, ever end, I’m afraid. And that’s okay. I will list my Holy Grail products soon — and they had better not be sold out when I need them.

“No one is perfect.”

“Don’t let perfection be the enemy of good.”

I’ll be trite and remind you that you are perfect just the way you are.

…What foundation are you wearing?

Fine. But I can have perfect brows, perfect skin, perfect hair.

Just not all on the same day.