Late last night, I was woken up by a dream about my childhood friend who I'm no longer in touch with. I felt an urgent need to talk to her but stayed away from my phone. Don't you just hate it when a certain sporadic incident brings back every happy memory you've shared with a person you no longer want to see ? The clock said 3.06 and I knew sleep had sold me to insomnia. I switched on the lights and stared at myself in the mirror, typical, I know, but can't help. I looked funny, with my hair exploring all possible directions, but nevertheless, it was a cute sight. Strangely, I never find myself pretty when I doll up.
I sunk back into bed and lamely started thinking about what qualifications does one need to be called beautiful. Yesterday morning, I had seen a woman commit suicide because her husband constantly butchered her self confidence by criticizing every part of her physical being. The show was 'Satyameva Jayate' and before everything else, I'd applaud Aamir Khan for his bold initiative. That woman's face popped up inside my head again and again and I couldn't help but wonder, what kind of a man would do that.
I don't have silk threads on my head and its a rare in a million chance that they decide to obey me and stay where I want them to. Teenage has left its footprints on my face. I'm an average 5'3" and I bite my lips whenever my mother is out of sight. Does all this make me less of a person that I want to be ?
Isn't it all about what you're wearing under your skin ?
