Not fair, but lovely: I am my version of beautiful
While school is a second home where we grow up in a protected environment, college is considered to be a place where we get the first taste of freedom. Just like all my classmates, the simple child in me was excited to leave school life behind and join college. Getting rid of the school uniform and having the freedom to wear what you want made me excited. Shopping for new clothes, footwear and bags started a month before college started.
A week into college, all those fancy footwear were asked to stay in the shoe rack. My feet found comfort in regular footwear.
Another week passed by and I went shopping again. I did not find that fancy handbag comfortable to hang on my shoulder. I wanted to go back to using the school bag again.
I also gave up on kajal, the only piece of makeup I liked, within a few days because I could not make it last on my eyes for more than two hours.
I wasn’t worried about how I looked because I met people who were either like me or didn’t bother if I looked like a girl as per the standards of society. Though I might have shed a tear over the money I wasted on buying those clothes and accessories just to fit in.
Meanwhile, there were relatives who loved talking about how my skin colour was getting darker and how I should do something about it. I am told I was as white as milk when I was born. I know that’s an exaggeration, but yes, when I see photographs from my childhood years, I can say that my skin was very light in tone.
I ignored the gyaan of the society but it found home in my parents’ minds. It took me time to make them realise that I don’t care about the colour. If they have a nuska that helps keep my skin healthy, I’ll try it, otherwise, just forget it. (Oh, by the way, I took a quick break to apply fresh aloe-vera gel on my face.)
When I took admission in post-graduation, I knew I was going to meet a new world.
Here, I was told how I should mix and match my tops with my bottoms properly, instead of wearing what I found comfortable.
I was told that I should use a handbag because I am no more a schoolgirl.
I was told how I should wear a little makeup to look beautiful.
For them, I was not beautiful.
I could become beautiful if I wore a short skirt or let my curls fall on my shoulders.
I did not listen to any of this gyaan. I wanted to feel comfortable in my own skin.
When I was told I need to go to a salon to get my eyebrows done, I refused straightaway. I was (jokingly!?) told I would be dragged to the salon if I didn’t go on my own because I needed to start looking like a girl. I laughed it off with a huge smile on my face.
“I am done with listening to your expectations of me becoming your version of beautiful.”
My smile was enough to make my point clear.
Simple is my beautiful.
Smile is my beautiful.
