For over two decades of my life I have spent nearly all my life eating my insecurities. And let me tell you all, it’s not easy. It’s not easy to look in the mirror in hope of finding a pimple sans glowing skin, or your skin two tones more white. I use the best cleansers and best dermatologist advised anti-acne products but my skin looks the same. Always.
Always it happens I go somewhere with my mother and everyone remarks how well she looks even in her late forties and how sad I didn’t inherit her genes. She’s fairer and has a normal skin. She has never experienced a sign of pimple on her body. Never. She’s blessed.
My brother has inherited her colour and also her height. He’s six feet tall. I just stand a little over five. At 19, he looks like a John Abraham type while I still get mistaken for a school girl.
I read – newspapers, magazines, books, blogs, online stuff, basically everything. And almost everywhere they have these attractive, tall, white-skinned girls and women glamourised and focused. Deepika Padukone and Priyanka Chopra’s skin tone is lightened and retouched because according to the old perception fair skin is more desirable. Kareena Kapoor Khan recently did an item number for ‘Brothers’. The song has her showing her skin and flesh. The same song wouldn’t have looked that great with Bipasha Basu or Priyanka Chopra.
Alia Bhatt – the latest fad in Bollywood – is everywhere, be it magazine covers, newspapers’ gossip sections, radio interviews, TV commercials, just everywhere. What does she has? She is five-two, average in acting, but has Bollywood connections and a good looking skin. Yes, I’m jealous of her. At times. Not when she sounds dumb in interviews, or says nonsense stuff. I’m jealous of her vanity van, if you’d seen it. I’m jealous she makes lots of money and I’m jealous she has a kitty.
At times, I envy my girlfriends’ figures. Some of them are slim and can wear anything and still look wow. I, on the other hand, have a Kim Kardashian type body. You might say, “Hey! Congratulations” but wait, there’s a drawback. In India, let me tell you, it’s not a celebrated thing. You aren’t expected to showcase your butts and boobs. You have got to be covered and dressed. Sad for me, and others, I bet you are.
India is not just the land of temples, and festivals, and Taj Mahal, and a world-famous cuisine, but also the land of virgins. Culture is important, purity is important. You cannot give it to just anyone, you gotta give it to your husband.
Lose it before marriage, and you’d never find yourself a decent husband. That’s what they all say. [I’m gonna die a nun]. Even though times are changing, and love and lust is taking over the world and young minds, you can still expect a 28 year old unmarried girl to be pure and tight. And not just girls, but boys too. Our society is so shy and timid that many a times, boys don’t become men until they are married, whether it’s at 25 or 30. Many, I’m not claiming all.
So what do one do when the fantasies hit at nights? I guess boys think of themselves as some Hollywood A-lister who’s famous for a certain sex scene in a certain popular movie and thinking of the time they’d get to bang their Megan Fox while girls shed their shyness and become the Sunny Leone. The bombshell, the lust, the sex-machine. I think of that too, I won’t lie. I guess everyone do, and those who say they don’t are hundred and ten percent lying.
So yes, there are times I don’t love the skin I’m in, the color I’m born with, the height I’ve claimed over the years, the oiliness I’ve on my face, the dark spots I’ve achieved (thank you pimples, you ruined my life), my body-figure, and the feeling of being trapped by the society and culture. There are times I want to have someone’s skin, color, of height. Or someone’s freedom and free lifestyle. I do at times want to be a certain Hollywood or Bollywood celebrity and dress nicely and be in the gossip columns for kissing a guy. I do dream that, I do.
But …. I’m also comfortable being me, being myself. I can entertain people with my stupidity and humour. I’m good at drawing and sketching. I can write amazing poetry and win thunderous claps. My short stature makes me cute and likeable, and the uncle at my favourite shop do give me discounts. I knock on my neighbours’ doors just for fun and then hide in the dark street and no, they never pick at me. How could a girl so sweet do something like this? This must be the work of some naughty kids.
I do love I have long lashes, and I secretly try to make the girls I don’t like much jealous by my good stuffs. So yes, I do love myself, if not always.
You know what, some dreams are just imaginative, and totally not achievable, [I can’t be a Rita Ora in a jiffy] and we must learn to accept our flaws, be comfortable in our own skin, and live confidently. Insecurities kill, and confidence builds a soul. And I’ve happily, over the years, learnt to live in my own shoes. It’s perfectly fine to dislike yourself at times, envy your best friend’s body, and desire of being Sunny Leone or Megan Fox for a while but it’s also important to accept yourself and give it the best smooch of the world.