Perfect

I find myself deeply moved by the new song by Pink, "Perfect." (As it turns out, there's a frequently-used obscenity in the title that I wasn't aware of until I watched the video on YouTube today. I'm working with the radio-edited lyrics for this blog entry.) I feel as if the lyrics were written for me. I've spent most of my life obsessed with the need to be perfect; because of my weight issues, I've felt as if I have no room for error anywhere else. In order to make up for being fat, I have to be perfect in everything else I do - perfect singing, perfect grades in school, never angry, always the perfect friend, perfect mother, perfect employee. Obviously, I can't ever succeed in this. Who can? I set myself up for defeat before I even try.

Pretty, pretty please
Don’t you ever, ever feel
Like you’re less than
less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you’re nothing
You are perfect to me

I feel as if somebody should have spoken these words to me when I was a child. Maybe it's my emotionally-distorted hearing, but for as long as I can remember I've heard any criticism as condemnation. Any time I displease somebody, I'm afraid that person won't like me any more. I never feel anywhere near perfect. A lot of the time I feel barely human.

You’re so mean when you talk
About yourself - you are wrong
Change the voices in your head
Make them like you instead
So complicated
Look happy you’ll make it
Filled with so much hatred
Such a tired game
It’s enough, I’ve done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons
I've seen you do the same

The voices inside my head never say anything kind to me. I look in the mirror in the morning, and I see an aging woman whom no man will ever love. I see scarred, worn-down, reddened, wrinkled skin, puffy eyes, a mouth that's forgotten how to smile. I wish I could change the voices in my head and make them like me instead. Really. This is something I've been struggling with especially hard for the past ten years. Chasing down the demons. Right now, I'm losing the battle. I'm losing heart. I'm giving up.

If I had a baby to rock right now, I'd be singing these lyrics to him or her, softly, as a lullaby. Pink is pregnant; I imagine that she wrote this song for the child she's carrying. (She admits this on her website: "Making this video was a very emotional experience for me, as was writing this song. I have a life inside of me, and I want her or him to know that I will accept him or her with open and loving and welcoming arms.") Or maybe for herself, or for a friend or close relative. Some people have suggested it was an answer to the recent gay suicides. Whatever reason, it speaks to me.