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The quest for perfection.

You can never be satisfied with what you’ve got if you haven’t started off poor. What’s happiness to you if you haven’t cried?

Some of my prettiest and near perfect friends are the ones seen fretting and fuming about their skin or their weight. I feel adults who complain about their looks never saw bad days early on. You haven’t lived your childhood if you haven’t been teased. Can you reflect to those days when kids would poke fun at the gap in your teeth, your obesity, or the humungous mole on your long chin?...when you grow into an awkward teenager and worry excessively about that bump in your nose. ...when all of a sudden (after 50 years) you discover that inner beauty and cease to care about these things anymore. We ought to strive for that peace sooner or gorge everyone else's eyes out.

Aim towards perfection has almost become an obsession in the west. Kids start early these days with braces, accutane, nip-tucks, nose-jobs, boob-jobs, blow-jobs (sorry, got carried away). Where are the imperfect people like me? Whom do kids tease these days?

Memorable were those days when people called me a coconut grater because my two front teeth could have given Bugs Bunny a heart attack. My accomplishments at that time included brushing my teeth without even opening my mouth. My teeth walked in before me and God forbid if we ever played hide-and-seek…I was surely to be found as I had no place to hide my pair of pearls. Apart from that minor problematic detail, I could have replaced the statues of Venus de Milo. I was starting to get worried about my social/love life when I was thirteen. I pleaded with my parents to save me from this misery, just this once. It was a necessity and not vanity. Never will I ask for anything else (it wasn't the last time they heard that phrase). My parents finally decided to shell some cash for this endeavor and got me the coveted braces. They hoped that they could show my ‘before’ and ‘after’ pictures to the future groom and get some concession on my dowry.

Flashing metal with different colored rubber bands became the fashion statement in my uppity school. Forget the fact that there was no bar between the deserving and the non-deserving candidates. Everyone I knew wanted their teeth behind bars. But I could care less…my face transformed during the two painful years. My dentist almost fell in love with me and I couldn't stop grinning ever since. The teeth surely went in, but in the process, my nose slowly came out! Darn!

Surely, ‘Ms. Proboscis’ is not flattering anymore (Respected proboscis, the nose looks perfect on you). Patrix, want to try a group discount for a nose job?

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