Why My Imperfect Is Perfect

When you’re growing up, being around other kids often means one thing: being compared. Whether it’s in class, at recess, or just walking down the street, kids are quick to point out what makes you different.

For me, that difference was obvious.

I was going through chemotherapy at a young age, and one of the side effects was hair loss. Even though I still wore earrings and dresses, I didn’t “look” like the average little girl. I remember telling my peers again and again, “I’m a girl.” But they didn’t listen. I was teased and mistaken for a boy more times than I can count.

That’s just one example. There were many more.

When the chemo made me too weak to walk, my mom would push me in a stroller. I needed that support—my body was fighting hard. But to strangers, I looked like a spoiled kid who just didn’t want to walk. I remember the stares. The judgment. The shame that crept in even though I was doing my best just to survive.

And it didn’t stop in childhood.

Even now, people ask why I wear sunglasses indoors. They ask about my scars. Sometimes the questions are kind. Other times, not so much. But over the years, something inside me has shifted.

I started to realize: I don’t need to look like everyone else. I was never meant to.

My scars are not imperfections—they are my strength made visible! They tell the story of everything I’ve endured, everything I’ve overcome. They’re not ugly. They’re powerful.

And now, I embrace the truth: I’m perfect just as I am. And that is why my imperfect is perfect!

So I want to ask you: What’s something people have judged you for? Something they labeled “imperfect,” but in reality, it helped shape the person you are today?

That thing the one they didn’t understand might just be your perfect, too.

~CR