Tag Archives: Epiphany

Now that you’re 18

As adulthood stares me right in the eye, I look back at the many, MANY irrational, unreasonable and downright moronic decisions I have made in the past and wonder….WHAT THE  F*CK WAS I THINKING?

All the times I pretended to be someone I wasn’t just to be accepted; all the times I acted rashly, thinking I was doing the right thing; all the times I played to the gallery’s and chased the impossible ideal of “fitting in” rather than embracing my inherent weirdness that later helped me meet some of the best people I know; all the times I hurled myself at boys who showed the least bit of interest in me just because I was in love with the idea of being in love; blindly following fads that went against the sanctity of fashion (the “kareena” dress I forced my mother to buy me for my ninth birthday); all the tears shed over my B cups when most of my friends sported 34 C’s; the fights, the tantrums; I look back at all the things I thought were so phenomenally important when they happened, and now rarely cross my mind and I feel an odd sense of accomplishment. Accomplishment suffused with huge amounts of embarrassment of course, but accomplishment all the same.

I messed up, but I also dealt with my mistakes, and moved on with life. As i grew older I learned how to accept myself, flaws and all. I became a better judge of character, a better friend, a better daughter. I know I’m not the best I can be, but I’m proud of who I am, who I’ve become. I know my eighteenth birthday will just be another candle on my cake, I don’t expect some crazy transformation and maturity to come with it, but I hope that as I grow older, I get to know myself better, and love and respect myself for who I am and not for who I feel I should be. Instead of regretting the many mistakes I’v made, I hope I begin to look at them as opportunities to grow.

As I stand on the cusp of adulthood, I hope I stay true to who I am.

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The F word

Everyone has that one thing that bothers them more than it should. For some it’s a slightly disproportionate nose, or a muffin top, it could even be something as stupid as a mole next to your eye  or an odd birth mark . It’s usually something that no one sees but you, and what you see is usually far worse than what it really is.  Somehow, you’re able to mentally mutilate this tiny, rather insignificant blemish and turn it into an exaggerated, amplified version of what it was to begin with.

My weakness has always been my weight. That’s not to say I’m obese or anything, I’m what they call “full-figured” . I hate the fact that it bothers me so much because overtly I’m all for being confident of who you are and how you look , but deep down only I know how insecure I am about my body. Somehow subconsciously I’v bought into that cover girl- tall-skinny-booby idea of perfection the media has been selling to us ever since the invention of fashion magazines, even though I’m fully aware of the fact that the girls on the covers of those magazines and in the movies, and on TV  look the way they do because of extensive airbrushing and photoshopping.

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“oh, theres this new gym down the road, we should go!,” or “Oh, girls like us really have to work hard to maintain our figures na,”  seemingly innocent comments like these, would invoke my inner beast and send me into fits of inexplicable rage that would usually end with me and the poor soul who decided to talk to me, crying in a pool of blood.


At a very good friends party the other day, I met a boy. A reasonably attractive boy at that. I was dancing and just generally having a great time with my friends, when said hot boy decided to dance next to me. I asked him whether he was in the twelfth grade too, he said he was. He asked me where I studied, I told him. He cracked a lame science joke, I tittered politely. He started to take selfies with my friend who was hosting the party, I was standing about half a meter away, so he asked me to join too. I thought, oh what the hell, and joined them.

A few hours later, the host and I were sitting in her room post party, when the boy texted her, asking her to call him ASAP. He asked her to make sure she was alone. Obviously, she switched on speaker phone and we waited expectantly as the phone rang.

“hey, there was this girl at the party, in a black dress,” I looked down at what I was wearing, and caught my breath. GREAT DAY TO WEAR BLACK!

“Not S******, the other one,”

omgomgomg hot boy wants me!!!!

“the slightly fat girl, yeah, give me her number.”


 I wanted to grab the phone and hurl it out of an open window. My friend looked up at me nervously and immediately turned off speaker phone.

I went home seething, who did he think he was, calling me fat. He wasn’t even that hot. Jerk.

But a few hours of ice cream induced self reflection and I thought, does it really matter?

Maybe I’m not thin,

Maybe my rather ample bottom, wont ever fit into 24″ waist jeans,

Maybe my stomach wasn’t made for ab lines,


Nobody’s perfect, not even Beyonce.

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The epiphany

You know that feeling you get when you look at someone who is so unquestionably  perfect in every conceivable way, that all your imperfections suddenly seem embarrassingly blatant? That why is the world so unfair/ why does the universe hate me/ FML feeling? Well, I was acquainted with that feeling a little while ago and I can assure you, there is nothing worse. I’m sorry for the lack of eloquence, but there is no better way to explain this terrible feeling than to say that IT SUCKS. But it also puts several things into perspective.

I would describe myself as an overtly ambitious yet hazardously lethargic person. What I lack in drive I make up for in a relentless commitment to my intent. “But just wanting something isn’t enough. Working towards your goal is key,” I have been told this repeatedly, by parents, by teachers, by over enthu neighbor aunties who can’t mind their own  business, and it isn’t that I’m in denial, I know it’s true and yet  I continue being my couch potato self.


Procrastination and I have a love hate relationship. While some of my greatest achievements have been a fruit of my inherent passivity, the downside is that it gets in the way of me being the best I can be. One home truth about procrastination is that it is nearly impossible to beat. Nearly. Yet you always meet that one person who is able to balance life so effortlessly. That one individual who does EVERYTHING right.While you wait till thursday to submit your report due on friday, little miss perfect submitted hers on tuesday and has already started working on the paper you were meant to hand in at the end of the semester; while you toil away at 3 in the morning, desperately trying to retain at least a fraction of the chapter in psychology you were expected to learn for a test, shes fast asleep with her alarm set for 6, leaving her with a comfy half hour for a quick revision. Somehow, they also have far more active social lives than you do. Despite the fact that they are studying for their SAT’s, CLAT, IIT JEE, NATA and every other possible entrance exam the world of academia has to offer, there is not one party they don’t attend.


Now, I know how annoying it is to live on the same planet, let alone, actually associate with these people on a daily basis, but an undeniable truth that we all choose to ignore is that there will always be people who are better than us, and they, like everything else that is a part of our lives, exist for a reason. Instead of incessant and unnecessary mental comparisons that not only bruise one’s ego but also invite that little green monster we all hate so much, we need to be able to see them, not as a threat but as motivation for us to stop shamming and put in the hours and the hard work we know we need to. We also need to be able to accept ourselves for what we are and work on our flaws and inhibitions not because we want to be better than everyone else but because we want to be the best we can possibly be. So stop worrying and just be da bawse.


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