Always use upward strokes when you wash your face. That is the only way your face stays tight and young. I don’t know why out of all the skincare advice that has been doled out to me, this is the one that stuck.
Almost every day when I wash my face as my cheeks overflow out of my hands, I push them up and repeat - Stay perky and stay where you are! I hope someday I will practise what I preach. And ask myself why everything has to stay up and perky. From butt cheeks to cheeks. Why the droop is always the devil?
But these days I don’t think much about the droop. It’s hard to think about all that when there is a leash on your neck.
As a child every day when I said “Appa, I am off to school”. He only said, “goodbye, be a good girl”. And then one day I said, “Appa, I am off to college”. He said, “goodbye, be a good girl”. Even when I said, “Appa, I am off to work”. He said, “goodbye, be a good girl”. But one fine day, when I said “Appa, this is the guy I want to marry.”
All hell broke loose. That is the day I knew the length of my leash. Or the day I realised I had one around my neck. Everybody finds it out some way or the other. But once you find out, there’s really no going back. I realised I had been that puppy that dashes out the door without even knowing that there was a leash on its neck. A leash that would be quickly pulled the second I took one step too far.
All this while, when he said “good girl”, I never wanted to question his intentions. I thought he probably always cared for me like a little girl. The leash opened my eyes to the fact that it was because he never wanted me to become a woman. A woman who knows what she wants and speaks her mind. A girl that had outgrown the “good girl” trope.
But in some ways, I am thankful for this leash. It made me rethink who I was. Who am I If I am not the good girl my parents wanted? Who am I if I don’t hold the sanctity of my caste in the vagina? What names do I get when I question, defy and oppose everything they associate with honour?
The guilt trips are now way shorter. Guilt is the only way this patriarchal society keeps a woman in check. The minute a woman decides to put her happiness before her family, the guilt-tripping starts. The fact that you can find happiness on your own threatens that very base of this society that will always tell you that "parents know best".
They told me that the worst thing that a child could ever do was make their parents cry. I did that and I will tell you that it's not. Living unhappily because its "what good girls do" is the worst thing that can happen to you. I am the ambassador of crying on cue and let me tell you that tears are overrated. It's not the end of the world. You can cry, your parents can cry, the entire family can sit and cry. You will live to smile and laugh as a family another day.
My skin is getting thicker with every slut-shaming episode. Tears and anger don’t sway me anymore. I can see clearly through all the caste and honour bullshit. It still affects me but I can always laugh about it in a few hours. There is, of course, a lot to figure out yet, but I know one thing. Identity is rarely found in one’s comfort zone.
You find your identity only when you learn to unlearn. The comfort zone looks like a dot to me now. But I have come to realise that the world is a much bigger place, now that the walls have come down. And in the journey of finding my own identity. I still say upward strokes girl. Keep swimming, it will only get better from here!
Comments