The Perfect Number

I always thought that 25 was the perfect number: 5x5=25 is the easiest multiplication table to memorize, not to mention that it is five squared; among pocket change the quarter -- worth 25 cents -- is the most coveted coin.

So as my 25th birthday approached, the pressure mounted to make it the most perfect year of my life. I had it in my head that a woman of 25 should be at the peak of her beauty and lead a life of sophistication and glamour. After all, aren't all the fabulous women in movies 25 years of age?

But the more I held up that quarter of a century standard, the more I realized I could never achieve it. I will never have a perfect figure, an impeccable sense of style or a witty quip at the ready. And those facts depressed me -- until I realized that just because I could never achieve perfection didn't mean I couldn't try to improve myself in meaningful ways.

Yesterday, I turned 25 years old. And I wasn't depressing at all. I have accepted the fact that despite my best efforts this year, my hair will be frizzy more often than not, sometimes (or many times) my house will be messy, and I may have just as many ditzy moments as sophisticated ones. But I can learn to be more disciplined and healthy in my eating and exercise habits, I can be more wise with my finances, I can strive to put others before myself, and I can develop my God-given strengths and improve upon my weaknesses. This could very well be the best year of my life!

By the way, I did a little research and found out that -- scientifically speaking, at least -- 25 is NOT a perfect number, but 28 is. I better get started if I am to attain perfection in three years!