I used to think that I was supposed to embrace my flaws.
But then I realized that I am perfect.
Calling something a flaw implies that there is something wrong- it is imperfect. But who is to say what is perfect and what is flawed? Why should we subscribe to any opinion or thought other than our own? You never knew you were imperfect until someone told you that you were. You never called it a flaw until someone or something else changed your perception of perfection from who you naturally are to who you should try to be.
That pimple on your cheek- perfect.
The chickenpox scar on your forehead- perfect.
The dry skin in the crevice of your nose- perfect.
The one eyebrow that arches much less than than the other- perfect.
You. Your soul. Your everything. You're beautiful. You're perfect.