I was always an average looking child. Slightly on the heavier side. Dusky skin. Thick Eyebrows. My mother never really allowed me to indulge in fashion at a young age. She discouraged me from wearing excessively modern clothes, or using makeup. I had nice long hair, always tied up into 2 plaits. I loved playing outdoor games. But, as I reached my teenage years, I felt my boobs were too big and if I ran they would shake a bit too much and I would end up being a laughing stock. I withdrew. Slowly, I started making excuses and avoided the outdoor periods in school. I remember, wanting to be included in a group which had the most popular students in my school. I could just never muster the courage to do so. In my head, I was too ugly to be a part of a popular group.
I remember, I was about 10 years old, when my maternal aunt delivered a daughter. She looked like an angel. As she grew, she turned out to be a beautiful girl, with fair complexion, perfect body, lovely hair. As I grew, I often heard my maternal granny very subtly drawing comparisons between us, commenting on my weight or my color. My parents never really understood that, I was losing my confidence and that they needed to step in and make me feel special. This was in the late 90’s and early 2000. I don’t blame my parents as I am sure, they were absolutely clueless about what I was going through. I had already started to put myself in an inferior position, so much so that I considered myself lucky if a boy spoke to me in school. I started mingling with the wrong group of students in school, only in an attempt to get accepted.
I feel I was so vulnerable for attention and acceptance, that I got into quick relationships. In my law school, I dated a guy for about 5 years. A male-chauvinistic man, who abruptly stopped talking to me after we graduated. I chased and pleaded with the guy to accept me and marry me. One fine day, he just called up and said, “Stop bothering me. My mother says we cannot get married as you are not fair as I am”. And that call was the turning point. While I temporarily lost control over my emotions, I gathered myself back. I realized that I cannot be at mercy of anyone else to be accepted. I need to accept myself first. I need to say “OK” to my flaws. I need to walk with my chin up.
Eventually I learned to invest time on myself, something that I had barely done in the 5 years of my relationship. I studied hard, got a scholarship to travel to the USA and complete my Masters of Law. I stepped out , I explored the world. I did and achieved everything which my male-chauvinistic boyfriend said I couldn’t. For the first time ever I stopped thinking about how I look. I started doing things I always wanted to do. I dressed and walked like a boss. And suddenly, I was receiving so much attention from people around me. I was slowly getting popular in and outside the class too. I made some lovely friends during my Masters.
Since then, I have worked hard and made an amazing career for myself. I am a successful lawyer, with all the luxuries I ever dreamt of and the ones that my ex thought I could never get. I am also married to someone who loves me for who I am and doesn’t care if I put on a few pounds. He encourages me to workout whenever I get too lazy but is never ashamed of my weight or my looks. He motivates me to be a better version, but, never look down on myself. A few years ago, I absolutely stopped using makeup. I do invest in my health, fitness and knowledge. I am no longer bothered by acne here and there or with uneven tones of skin on my face and other parts of my body. I love my messy hair and casual clothes. I love buying big brands, but am not obsessed with them.
Even today, the Society does not forgive a woman if she is not “perfect”, irrespective of how successful she is. I still have people in my family very casually passing comments on my weight or my looks. But, I think I have learnt the subtle art of not giving a F*CK!!!
Over the years, the only thing I have known is acceptance. I have accepted myself the way I am. I am no model, I am a normal working woman. I was not born to look a certain way, I was born to live a certain way. I am not obligated to follow the beauty standards the society sets for me. I have the right to define myself. I have the right to wear what I like on my body. I have genuinely forgiven myself for being too harsh. Too critical. Too ruthless.
I am beautiful. I know it. I believe it!
