While I should have been there making the best of the moments and capturing them in my head as much as I can, I was busy thinking about this stupid thing –

No, not again turquoise ink!

Well, being beautiful is some phrase that I have never truly understood. And it keeps haunting me. What can I do!

What is it that you don’t understand?

How do you know if someone is beautiful?



Uff! Attractive to eyes?

I don’t trust the eyes.

Okay, I am going to shut up now. I get a feeling if I stick around anymore, I would die even if I am not capable of dying.

Goodbye, voice in my head. I expected you would do something like that. I am glad you did.

So, the thing is that lately I have realized that while I was busy making myself something that is “attractive” to the eyes around, I have unknowingly objectified my own self.


Still there?

I am stuck in your head. What can I do?

And I am stuck with you. The tragedy of my life.

Anyway, the thing is that I put in appreciable number of efforts to look good; Concealing those pimples, getting my hair done, getting my hair done again because no one can do that at first try, getting my toe nails painted so that they look good in stilettos, learning to walk on those stilettos, manicure is equally necessary, then of course you need a flat belly, a fairer skin would be great ( and I don’t want to admit this because skin color is bullshit but yet I have my crazy norms of beauty and I obey to whatever shit my eyes find pleasing) I am never satisfied with the way I look. Something is always there that’s missing. Over the years I have learnt to ignore it but nevertheless it has kept eating me from inside. I have to have some things that I don’t own and I naturally can never ever own but I still have to get them because they are Oh-so-beautiful. If I were an object I owned and if I could just throw my body away and buy a new one, what would I do? My answer is sadly exactly what I don’t want it to be.
Objectification? Is this really objectification? Yes, it is the most brutal form of objectification. I treat myself like a pair of jeans. No, actually I don’t. We embrace even the rugged jeans with such love. I don’t think I would ever do that with my own self. I want to be what is exactly trending, what exactly some people are flashing in front of my eyes so that they could make some money. I want to be what society is used to liking. I want to meet all those silly criteria. Then and only then my vision magically changes and my eyes begin to perceive myself as beautiful.

There are certain things in yourself that you find ugly. I get that. But why would you feel that way? Especially when you are acutely aware of the fact that norms of beauty keep changing every day?

Voice in my head, you are right but I am helpless.

Turquoise ink, have you ever fallen in love?

Yes, I have. Well…I think I have.

SO that means that you have admired someone so much that you ignored all his imperfections.
Like if he had anger issues, you would have still loved him somehow. If he smoked, it would have been alright with you. If he was moody, you would still have figured out a way to adjust. You would have told yourself that he is caring, smart, understanding and he loves you. If he has embraced your imperfections, why can’t you embrace his? You would have loved him and you would have loved him anyway…
Cute isn’t it?
And you can do that for some other person but not your own self.

That‘s true. I get your point. I have to live with myself all my life. That is one marriage that doesn’t have an option for divorce. Even then I can’t respect it. I can’t lovingly look at my own reflection… what kind of joke is that? I unintentionally compare myself to those models. I am thin, I am tall. But that doesn’t change anything. Had I been obese and a dwarf, I would have felt the same way. Because as long I am not the person in that bloody magazine page or TV advertisement or fashion channels it doesn’t really matter.
Dwarf, tall, obese, skinny… what the hell, I am nothing but an ugly piece of shit.

Such pitiable condition we live in! The people around us are always so keen on pointing out that you are not good enough. What a strange world we have grown accustomed to!
The act of objectifying my own self is like a habit now. It’s embedded so deep that even while I am typing this, even when I am aware of the fact that how wrong I have been, I can’t change myself. What a godforsaken condition! I unintentionally subject myself to misery.

However, however, there is still this wanderer foodie called hope. And I am going to end this with him ( because let’s face it – Nobody likes depressing endings )

One day, I hope we figure a way to embrace ourselves. One day, I hope we stop being dependent on others to know our self worth. One day, I hope that a photo is not capable of stripping us off our confidence. One day, I hope that I am able to propose to my own self and live a happily ever after.

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