You're flawless when you embrace the things about you that you don't necessarily like, but you own them because they're yours.
I definitely am very secure with my body and my likes and dislikes and the imperfections that some might call flaws. I'm like, 'Those are my thighs; it's just what it is.' I think a lot of that has to do also with... women being a lot more vocal about the fact that, you know, being flawless is false.
When I was a teenager I would lock myself in the bathroom for hours, bouffanting my hair like Patty Duke and trying to recreate Barbra Streisand's flawless eyeliner, only to comb it all out and wash it all off before stepping out into the world a butchish bisexual teen.
My father was short for a man, with a child's plaything for a name - Spinner. He had flawless dark brown skin and a head full of big, wet-looking curls, black as oil. And he had the smile of a scoundrel - the kind of smile that disarmed men and undressed women.