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Perfect! Just the word used to make my skin crawl and my stomach churn, and it made my mind all bent out of shape as it would try to be what I thought I was supposed to be but could never be, because I was so damn human. Perfection used to sound like an impossible state that was only reserved for those other people who some divine being had so graciously graced with a perfection gene I somehow didn’t get, and couldn’t for the life of me seem to get my hands on. Most of my life, I strived to be a perfect being. I wanted to be a perfect daughter. A perfect student. A perfect sister. A perfect friend.A perfect girlfriend. I wanted to say the perfect things at the perfect time. I wanted to have perfect timing and to wear the perfect outfit. I wanted my make-up to be perfect, and for my skin to be perfectly smooth. I wanted my house to be perfectly clean. I wanted my squad to be perfect and I wanted so much to be perfect in my happiness and hipness and hotness—just perfectly and not ex