I wore sleeveless.

It took a compliment from my little sister.

After years. A decade of avoiding it. My arms you see. My beautiful arms were ugly to me. They aren’t perfectly smooth. Aren’t perfectly slim.

And I looked in the mirror.

And I thought.

If perfection means hiding who you are, with longer sleeves, looser dresses and more disguising.

Then perfection isn’t worth it.

Stop disguising Karishma.

And accept imperfection as perfectly perfect.

Perfectly beautiful.