Perfection

"I'm perfect," Suzanne announced, a small smile on her beautiful face as she surveyed us, her entranced audience. She looked at us and flung her arms out as though she was on stage, about to deliver an overly dramatic monologue.

"I'm beautiful, athletic, smart and an honor's student. Everyone likes me. If there ever is such a thing as a perfect human being, it is me."

She looked at us with a hard glint in her eyes, almost daring us to refute her statement. But we did not. We nodded dutifully and hoped that this dazzling goddess would grace us with her presence just a little while longer.

Suzanne glowed, shimmered and sparkled. When we were around her, she bathed us in a golden light that seemed to rub all our imperfections away. Our pimples temporarily vanished. Our lank, drab hair suddenly look shiny and lustrous. Our teeth seemed whiter. We always stood just that bit taller, that bit straighter and looked almost good enough to actually be her friend. Although we were tongue tied when we spoke to her, wit flowed among us like sparkling wine. We were lovely, we were people. We were all intoxicated in her presence, by her presence.

When she moved away,. The glow would fade, until it was a lovely, yet unrealistic dream. We would once again become the motley crowd of teenagers that we were. Our life would lose its novelty, and we would once again become slaves to our insecurities.

"Don't you think I'm right?" Suzanne continued, her soprano tinged with pride.

One single entity, we all chorused. "Yes, Suzanne."

We were rewarded when an angelic smile spread across her face and we were bathed in its warm, radiance. But it was not meant to last.

"No, you're wrong. Perfectly wrong," a clear, firm voice spoke up. There was a slight slur on the word 'perfectly', almost as though the speaker was mocking Suzanne.

We stood still as we watched the smile fade and a frown emerge. We held our breath and wondered what would happen. We turned to look at Suzanne's challenger. Was it perhaps, another like her? A second Goddess?

Our eyes saw mousy brown hair in a terrible haircut, thick glasses, small eyes, a large nose and, horrors of horrors, braces. Braces! This was the person who had dared speak against Suzanne? This was the person who had denied her perfection? This....this...mouse?!

We waited as Suzanne studied her opponent. Scrutiny was replaced by condescension and we breathed a sigh of relief. She was unhurt. She was safe.

"Perfectly wrong?" she exclaimed, her well modulated voice ever so slightly mocking. "And pray, tell me, do you consider yourself to be the epitome of perfection?"

"Of course not," the girl countered, her voice still firm, still calm. "I merely meant to state that perfection does not exist, especially in a person as awful as you."

Each word seemed as loud as a giant explosion as it unleashed itself in the room. Suzanne 's face hardened and for a minute, she seemed to be carved out of stone. Her beautiful features were stiff, their icy beauty stunned us all. As beautiful as Michaelangelo's creations, she stood there, unmoving, absolutely still.

"Look at you," her assailant continued. "Haughty, proud and mean. You use your looks and charm to get whatever you want. You're an actress and you need this audience"- she indicated us -" to keep afloat. You are pathetic, cowardly and weak. The only reason you are nice to people is because you crave their admiration. Its an aphrodisiac to you, a drug you can't get enough of."

As we listened to the little mouse, we began to see another side of Suzanne. The mouse was right. Suzanne was all of those things, and more.

"I...never...well," Suzanne stuttered, suddenly trapped under our hostile gaze. Nervously, she took a step back. The mouse seized her advantage and ploughed on, her voice becoming stronger.

"You'd be lost without them wouldn't you? You're so pathetic. Perfect indeed."

As one, we all accepted the mouse and placed her on the pedestal that Suzanne had once occupied. Here was someone who deserved our devotion, our admiration. She was like us, a shining example. She too was unattractive and awkward, but she was comfortable under her skin. She was happy being who she was.

The realization hit us like a tonne of bricks and we clamored to her for strength. We drew from it and stood tall, all on our own. We still had our pimply faces and our gangly limbs, but we didn't care. We were the best we could ever be. We were ourselves.

Suzanne knew this, and she trembled. She felt her faithful followers being torn away from her. However, she was not humbled. She did the one thing that could win us back, the only thing that might have won us back.

She went and stood next to our mouse.

Dull brown hair became shiny and bouncy. The glasses became thinner and her eyes seemed larger.. Her teeth were straight. We looked on in undisguised awe as your mouse became a beautiful, sleek vixen.

Suzanne moved away and the vixen vanished. We had our mouse back. But now we didn't want her. We wanted What Suzanne could give us. She could make us feel beautiful, and we needed that like we needed nothing else.

Our mouse sighed and retreated gracefully. She knew that she had been bested. Perhaps, if we had been older and more mature, the battle would have been hers. She sighed, and patiently withdrew and waited for us to grow up. All of knew that she might be waiting in vain.

Suzanne turned to look at us, a queen surveying her court.

"What was I saying?" she asked us, her angelic face wreathed in smiles. She looked commanding.

"You are perfect Suzanne," we chorused and she smiled again. "You most certainly are."