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.