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Perfect Pressure

The Pressure to Be Perfect

The Pressure. I'm really careful about speaking on behalf of all women, but it seems to be a universal female experience: a thousand voices telling us to be thinner, curvier, sweeter, smarter, taller, more beautiful — better. Always better. Perfect.

I've always seen myself as something of an outsider among the loudest female voices, neither an "independent woman" nor a woman of the Stepford variety. But even a noncommittal nonconformist like me can't escape the Pressure, that amorphous, unforgiving set of ideals that causes some girls to feel guilty for eating.

A few weeks ago, I had the TV on while cleaning up the kitchen. As I was lining up glasses in the dishwasher, I looked at the screen to catch sight of blonde, curly hair and found myself thinking with resignation, "What is it now? What is it I'm supposed to be, and what is it I'm supposed to buy to make me that way?"

I'm not sure if anyone knows just where this pressure comes from, but it seems to be largely about perfection, and it's no respecter of age. The topic of perfection is a perennial one in all media pertaining to teen girls, while the middle-aged mothers in Judith Warner's Perfect Madness express their exhaustion with trying to fulfill everyone's expectations flawlessly. No one seems to know what "perfect" is or should be, but we all know we're not it. And I think we're getting tired.

Give Me More Time

Part of the root of the Pressure is probably our culture's ever-shifting definition of women — it seems like there are thousands of ideas and perspectives on what women should be. Even within the Christian community, you'll find varying shades of acceptable femininity, ranging from an Oprah-ish "be true to yourself," to something a little more like June Cleaver, both of which come with a particular set of standards and a real or perceived penalty for failing to deliver.

As with most things, sanity probably lies somewhere in the middle. But even if I figure out how to live my life, what do I do about the voices that tell me I'm doing it all wrong? Because those voices are everywhere and unavoidable, even if I'm doing exactly what I believe God has called me to do.

I'd be curious to find out if guys experience the same pressure. I think they do, actually. There's that scene in The Weatherman where Nicholas Cage's inner monologue addresses his father: "Don't die yet. Give me more time." He wanted time to prove that he had his life together, both professionally and family-wise, that what he did for a living mattered and that his kids were turning out wonderfully.

Guys obviously feel some sort of pressure. I have no idea whether they just feel it more lightly, whether the consequences of failing just feel less dire to guys or whether they just don't express their anxiety as openly. Or maybe the pressure felt by women is just more marketable — I've never seen a commercial that used words like "decadent" and "sinful" with reference to anyone male who endangers his physique by eating chocolate. But whatever.

Good and Good Enough

Not too long ago, I had a moment — the kind I rarely have. I was sitting in front of my computer reading an article online. I can't remember what it was called or even what it was about, but I remember one sentence about God being in charge of our journeys, holding our futures and our accomplishments in His hand.

In that moment, I knew something: As much as I stress out over whether or not I'm everything I'm supposed to be or accomplishing everything I'm supposed to do, it's not completely up to me. I have this Father who created me and guides me, and growing out of my failures and shortcomings is not something I have to do alone.

Sitting in the blue glow of the computer screen, I felt the muscles in my chest and shoulders uncurl and lose their tension. For a moment, no one was holding a clipboard and pen, judging my hair, my clothes, my ability to be a "fun" addition to a social gathering. I constantly feel judged, weighed and evaluated. Sometimes I have to stop and ask myself where God is during those moments. I've caught myself praying for forgiveness for saying something stupid at a party, which wasn't really a sin, just a social blunder for which I wanted absolution.

I guess there are two sets of standards I could follow: God's and the world's. Sometimes they get confused in my mind, and I end up walking around with a vague sense of being disappointing — I don't measure up.

If I really thought about it, I would probably realize which set of standards is more important. And I think I would be grateful that God is not as cruelly unforgiving as the voices of pressure, that He's less art critic than Artist. It's not that it's impossible to displease Him or that He has no expectations. It's that, as the Potter, He takes delight in the clay He's molding, and as long as I'm striving to grow with Him, He never gives up on making me what I'm supposed to be.

C O F F E E  S H O P

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How do you deal with the culture's pressure to be perfect?

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The psalmist speaks of God as a refuge; from the Gospels, Jesus calls us to "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Matthew 11:28-30, NIV).

The pressure to be perfect can be intense. But the yoke Jesus offers is light, and it's one He helps us bear.