Many people in creative fields can be perfectionists, especially photographers, florists, wedding planners and people who need to care about the details. I am constantly on the look for the perfect light and space, to put hair and clothing in their proper place, and to make sure it doesn’t look like a tree or a lamp post is coming out of my clients head. My attention to detail is has become my super power over the years. I don’t know why the X-Men franchise hasn’t brought on “Highly Aware of Every Detail Girl,” but, in my own life, I truly do feel like the Syndey Bristow of Wedding Photographers.
This super powerful attention to detail comes with it’s very own nemesis—a dark, evil, horrible case of perfectionism that I has plagued me ever since I was first praised for being perfect. We live in a society where it’s almost impossible for a woman not to be plagued and haunted with perfectionism. Every day we see perfect bodies, perfect hair, perfect eye lashes, perfectly plumb lips, breast that are always pointing upwards. If we frequent instagram, we also see women always happy and sexy and hipster and sometimes baking cakes and their houses are all white and all perfect, and it doesn’t help.