Reject perfectionism, do things with your foot

On keeping it stepping, however clumsily.

Uncertainty is a primary theme in my life at the moment. It gnaws at me daily, chewing away at my self-esteem and spitting out the remnants of who I thought I’d be at 26.

But while I can complain about it all day long, I should appreciate that it’s an excellent opportunity for rebirth.

And right now, I’m a blank canvas, baby.

I just moved to a new country, I’m jobless, single, and free of responsibilities. And in this liminal space where everything’s possible and nothing's guaranteed, I can no longer hold space for a personality trait that’s been holding me back: perfectionism.

The perfect routine, career trajectory, and path to a coveted family are all ideas that have been burnt to a crisp when I realized life doesn’t always pan out the way I want it to.

And with my current life so far away from what I thought it’d look like by now, holding onto an idealized version of myself seems to be doing me more harm than good.

Instead, I now focus on what I call “footlicious living.”

It sounds abstract, but it’s a pretty straightforward ideology: Instead of carefully handcrafting my life—with every next move deliberate, precise, and calculated—I do things with my foot.

The name comes from a situation I’m sure you’ve experienced: the remote is just out of reach, and rather than getting up, you grab it with your foot, lodging it in between your toes (or the soles of your feet if you’re feeling acrobatic).

Is it a pretty sight? Probably not. Does it still accomplish the desired outcome? Absolutely.

It’s about focusing on just getting things done without obsessing over the how, which in turn helps you mark a new step forward.

I used to resist this half-hearted approach to doing things. I was swayed by the maxim I’d heard everywhere, which stated that “how you do one thing is how you do everything.”

I felt the need to give my all to everything I did, to be perfect at everything all at once. But that was impossible. I kept falling short of who I woke up intending to be. And by the end of the day, I felt worse than if I hadn’t tried to do anything at all.

I’d once confided in a friend that I felt like I was constantly playing catch-up. When I had a fantastic social life and a great career, my health suffered. Conversely, when I prioritized my health and social life, I wasn’t my best at work.

That’s when she told me about the work-life triangle theory: the idea that you can only truly excel at two out of these three—career, relationships, and health.

This model, while giving me the nod of approval that I can’t do it all perfectly, didn’t pacify me as much as I hoped it would.

In fact, it backfired.

My perfectionist mindset translated it to mean completely sacrificing one aspect in favour of excelling at the other two. And rather than being content with the tradeoff, it made me hyperaware of the one side I was neglecting. So I felt guilty instead of relieved about my limitations.

But the footlicious way of life changes your perspective—and I now look at this triangle in a different light.

First, I reject the notion that you can pick just two. Instead, I think: “To what extent can I accept imperfections across all three areas so I can keep them alive at the same time?”

And it’s not just in these areas I apply this thinking to—it’s to everything.

Being footlicious means being okay with doing things half-heartedly if that’s what it takes to get them going.

Here’s a recent example of my footlicious endeavours.

In preparation for my move to Portugal, I wanted to get rid of some of my clothes. I usually donate them, but my sister told me I should sell them on Dolap—Turkey’s Depop.

She herself hadn’t sold anything yet—she was waiting for everything to be perfect. She wanted to create a solid branding for her account, order the best packaging materials, and photograph her clothes in the most flattering lighting.

Needless to say, she hasn’t gotten around to doing any of those things. Her yearning for perfection has made this task too daunting and demanding.

I, on the other hand, didn’t have the luxury of time. I had one month to get rid of as many clothes as possible, so moving footliciously was paramount.

So I piled the clothes I wanted to sell on the sofa, grabbed my sister’s iPhone stand, and filmed myself posing in each piece one by one. I then took screenshots at points where the clothes looked their best, uploaded them to ChatGPT, and asked it to generate titles and descriptions for each item.

I wasn’t even reading what it was generating. I just copied and pasted the output straight into the listings.

I then ordered the first set of packaging materials I found with fast delivery (which, to my delight, were pink), and with that, I was open for business.

In two days, I’d managed to get about 45 items up, including some books I wanted to give away. And within two weeks, I’d made 19 sales and received a couple of 5-star reviews.

Footliciousness for the win.

In all honesty, I did have a few mishaps. After all, oopsies are a side effect of doing things with your foot.

One of them was that I sent out a dress I’d claimed was flawless (because I hadn’t bothered to check its many layers), only for the buyer to point out it had rips in the lining. I refunded her in full and let her keep it. It’s a small price to pay for my footlicious approach to things (even though part of me thinks she should be grateful to even have received a floor-length dress for eight dollars. But I’m just being a bitch now.)

I also sold a book ChatGPT had described as “perfect, no marks, only read once,” when in reality, the pages were yellowed and the cover had a faint shoe mark on it. I hadn’t double-checked the description before listing it, so the buyer left me a 2-star review claiming the item wasn’t as described. Which, fair enough, I deserve.

But I promise I wasn’t being intentionally misleading; I have a good heart and the best of intentions. I was just doing things with my foot.

All in all, letting go of perfectionism has been life-changing for me. I’m more open to the flow of life, no matter how uncertain, because I can hold space for—and even embrace—the fact that things don’t always go as planned.

Footlicious living has been my way of embodying that: a reminder that perfection is a pipe dream, uncertainty is inevitable, and moving forward—however clumsily—is what matters most.