Finding satisfaction in imperfection: why our first attempts matter more than perfection

Tonight, I tried icing Christmas cookies for the first time.

On Instagram, everything seemed so simple: smooth videos, precise movements, results worthy of a pastry shop window. Me? I had a plate of cookies that looked like a sugary battlefield. The first attempts were… let's say, creative.

Then, little by little, I found the right texture, my hand became more confident, and the last biscuits were almost pretty. Almost.

And yet, I had a good time. So why, despite this enjoyment, does a little voice whisper that I'm "worthless"? This question touches on a much broader subject: self-satisfaction in a world obsessed with perfection.

When comparison steals our joy

Leon Festinger, a social psychologist, demonstrated as early as the 1950s that we tend to compare ourselves to others to assess our worth (social comparison theory). Today, social media amplifies this mechanism: we only see perfect, carefully filtered excerpts.

A study published in the Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology (2018) confirms that the more time we spend scrolling, the more our self-esteem can suffer. Why? Because we compare our initial impressions to the final versions of others.

Imperfection: the engine of learning

Psychology researcher Carol Dweck talks about the growth mindset: the idea that our skills are not fixed, but evolve with effort and mistakes. Every failed attempt is a step towards mastery.

Neuroscience confirms it: neuroplasticity – the brain's ability to remodel itself – is activated when we make mistakes and try to correct them. In other words, our imperfections are allies, not enemies.

Cultivating self-satisfaction

Kristin Neff, a pioneer of self-compassion, proposes three pillars for treating oneself with kindness:

Talk to yourself like you would to a friend: replace "I'm useless" with "I'm learning, and that's normal."

Recognizing the universality of imperfection: no one succeeds on the first try.

Being aware of the present moment: savoring the pleasure of creating, rather than judging the result.

A simple exercise: each time you finish a creative activity, write down 3 successes, even small ones. For example: "I dared to try," "I found the right texture," "I laughed when I saw my first cookies," okay, a fourth one for me: "mmmmyum"

Conclusion: The beauty of beginnings

My cookies aren't Instagram-worthy, but they tell a story: a story of learning, of a moment shared with myself, and of visible progress. And what if true satisfaction came not from perfection, but from giving ourselves permission to be beginners?

With UltraD, that's exactly my philosophy: ultra beginners, ultra imperfect… and ultra proud nonetheless.