"Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds"
Imagine being that girl you used to be, with the skin, hair and figure of a 20-year old. No matter what you thought of yourself then, you know now that you were a beauty. A beauty only youth can bestow. You play with clothes and hair like you are your own toy. You are far from invisible. People inevitably hover around you, for better or worse.
You don't really spend much time thinking about how you will be a professional, of how you will prove your mettle in the workplace. What you make of yourself never quite enters the equation of your worth, at least not in the way it enters the lives of your male counterparts. Their worth critically depends on their occupation, money, how well they are regarded by their colleagues and bosses. Yours depends on.... ah something something, you are beautiful and wilful, full of rebellious vitality and romantic dreams.
And this is where it all goes horribly wrong. For beauty, in the classic sense, fades pretty quickly. To insist that the world responds to you the way it did when you were in your youthful twenties, when you have nothing old or new to offer now, is quite frankly pathetic. You resent the young girls for taking their privileges for granted and you resent the world for all of a sudden downgrading you to an everyman.
You enter a very confused phase in your female cycle. You desperately want to be the object of worship. You want the body and you want the admiration. Yet you are very much used to the path of least resistance. You are also kind of tired of having scrambled your way through life and putting bandaids on many of your ill-thought out life decisions. You have so many regrets, but also so much anger because you have ended up somewhere you did not want to. And surely, you did not choose to be here? This must be someone else's fault. The world, the society, the system.
You will give vent to your angst by being loud. Your folder full of opinions and causes. Here! See! I have important things to say! Don't dismiss me just yet. I am still a force to be reckoned with.
You will put yourself through diets and machines resembling hamster wheels. You may even succeed. Yet you know that there is something deeply unsettling about trying and establishing your worth this way. You need more. You need to be a different kind of heroine. And its not going to be easy.
You don't really spend much time thinking about how you will be a professional, of how you will prove your mettle in the workplace. What you make of yourself never quite enters the equation of your worth, at least not in the way it enters the lives of your male counterparts. Their worth critically depends on their occupation, money, how well they are regarded by their colleagues and bosses. Yours depends on.... ah something something, you are beautiful and wilful, full of rebellious vitality and romantic dreams.
And this is where it all goes horribly wrong. For beauty, in the classic sense, fades pretty quickly. To insist that the world responds to you the way it did when you were in your youthful twenties, when you have nothing old or new to offer now, is quite frankly pathetic. You resent the young girls for taking their privileges for granted and you resent the world for all of a sudden downgrading you to an everyman.
You enter a very confused phase in your female cycle. You desperately want to be the object of worship. You want the body and you want the admiration. Yet you are very much used to the path of least resistance. You are also kind of tired of having scrambled your way through life and putting bandaids on many of your ill-thought out life decisions. You have so many regrets, but also so much anger because you have ended up somewhere you did not want to. And surely, you did not choose to be here? This must be someone else's fault. The world, the society, the system.
You will give vent to your angst by being loud. Your folder full of opinions and causes. Here! See! I have important things to say! Don't dismiss me just yet. I am still a force to be reckoned with.
You will put yourself through diets and machines resembling hamster wheels. You may even succeed. Yet you know that there is something deeply unsettling about trying and establishing your worth this way. You need more. You need to be a different kind of heroine. And its not going to be easy.
1 comment:
So well put Kutty! Struggles and more struggles.
Post a Comment