Beauty Behind The Fairness – A Rant

This was an interesting video that I came across while net surfing. And yeah, it’s true – women (and men) all over the world obsess over their body image. Thin, fat, tall short, fair, dark, (insert random rubbish feature that no one actually notices).

I’m not saying that I’m not body-conscious. I am. I fuss over everything – from my hairstyle to the nail on my little toe. Am I good enough? Am I pretty? Am I attractive? Will people like me? These annoying questions do pop up in my mind.

But seriously. Does anybody EVEN notice? I’m sure that you don’t sigh over your friend’s wonderful ear lobe and drool over her nail polish. Actually, have you even given active attention to those? No? Well, then you are like 90% of us.

It’s okay, good even, that you are not a supermodel. Chances are that others won’t be able to stand you then. Trust me. Do you like hanging out with a girl who looks like Angelina Jolie every day? Crap, I’m sure that even Jolie doesn’t look like Jolie every morning she wakes up with messed-up hair.

It’s not possible to look like that, and it’s time we accept it. Accept your beauty, and remember Lizzie Velasquez, aka The World’s “Ugliest” Woman. Shitty labels.

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Him

All the names have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals, much as I wish otherwise. Oops, I must be forgiving! Also for Blogging 201.

It all began when Mohan asked me, ‘Why don’t you show us the right answers during exams?’

‘Because I’m very sincere and honest,’ I replied curtly. Priyanka, who was sitting next to me, giggled. Being the class topper meant that I had to hear the same rubbish every day.

‘Is it why you have not yet told him that you love him?’ Mohan asked, a slow, lecherous grinning spreading across his pimpled face. I froze.

There was NO WAY anybody could know about my feelings for him. NO WAY meant NO WAY. The only soul (apart from my cousins, scattered across the country) who knew this secret was my best friend, Sweetie. And there was absolutely NO WAY she would have told that to anyone. Especially Mohan.

‘I don’t believe it,’ I replied. I could feel Priyanka’s dark eyes boring through me, curious about my secret crush.

‘Don’t you? Well then, for all your grades, you are a fool. The biggest fool I’ve ever seen. While we were playing hide and seek in Sweetie’s house, she told me, Asha, Cathy, and him. How you cried and cried over him. Ask her if you want,’ Mohan challenged.

Things that had seemed very silly and random before made perfect sense now. The memory was clear as day. The day I visited Sweetie’s house with her pals. Heaven was on Earth that day.

The unanimous decision to play hide and seek (ultimately kiddish at that time); everyone’s vote to make me the seeker; malicious looks from everyone when I talked with him; his vain attempts to defend me from Mohan’s spiteful remarks; Sweetie’s superior behaviour after the game; oh, it all made sense now. How blind I had been!

Various emotions coursed through me: misery, despair, anger, and rage. But two only two emotions could be felt distinctly – the burning hot feeling of self-preservation, and freezing cold fury. Both of them mixed with the adrenaline, running through my veins, eating me from within.

‘You can tell your darling Sweetie that I do not have a crush on him anymore.’

I couldn’t believe I had just said that. I had doodled his name in my personal diary for a year. I had admired the way his dark brown hair stood out regally from the rest for two years. I had written wild adventure stories with him for three years. And I had known him for four years.

‘Liar,’ Mohan said, and laughed.

I’ve become so numb / I can’t feel you there / I’ve become so tired / So much more aware / I’m becoming this / All I want to do / Is be more like me / And be less like you…

All sounds had been drained out. I was not able to think coherently. I vaguely realized that I was cracking, cracking beyond repair. I was cracking right in front of the girl, whom I had consoled after her first breakup. What will she even think of me now? I had no answer.

I bent my head on the hard wooden desk. Priyanka put her hand around me.

‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ she asked.

I nodded mutely.

‘Let the tears flow, Mads. They will cleanse you, they will heal your soul.’

‘I’ve cried for over three months now, Priyanka. I don’t have any tears left,’ I said, my voice rough with concealed emotions.

‘Just let it go, Mads.’

My mind had this annoying habit of playing BGM whenever I experienced any strong emotion.

Let it go, let it go! / Can’t hold it back any more.
Let it go, let it go! / Turn away and slam the door.
I don’t care what they’re going to say / Let the storm rage on / The cold never bothered me anyway.

 

This was the song that played when the first, salty, tear slid down my cheek.


 

Just lost a wonderful relationship abruptly? Try In The End. Rift in your relationship? What about New DivideIdentity crisis? Let Numb free you. Struck in the same trouble that I was in? Let It Go. Let the Iridescent prism brighten your life

Share your troubles, and I’ll share the lessons. Share the love.