Proud Flesh

Tearing and mending seems to be a part of everyday life for so many of us; those that have opted to push the limits of the human experience, those of us who seem so keen on going where few have dared to trod, to open the box of the pandora, to start sculpting the pymalion, in the hopes that we will one day be the master of her. Sculpted in beauty, in the image that was so true and perfect and pretty cool will eventually come to life to ONLY let us down. There is perhaps no greater parable than that of Pymalion in Greek Mythology( ).

The sculptor going to work to create, to sculpt, the perfect woman. Working tirelessly on the statue, day and night, night and day, trying to capture the true essence of HIS idea of beauty, HIS idea of perfection, and as the final months and weeks dragged on and on and he became obsessed with the idea of the perfect statue, well, he realized that he had become in love with the notion of perfection – In love with the statue. The statue that could give back nothing in return.

And so it is that humanity has become infatuated with the statue of perfection. The bodies are made thinner, the scars are airbrushed, along with the wrinkles and the blemishes, and we are left with this notion that perfection is what we (collectively) want. But it is not, because you see, there is no strength in perfection. There is only strength in beauty, BECAUSE of the scars!

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