UGLY.
Is there such a thing called “ugly’?
As an adjective, the dictionary says that ‘ugly’ means something “very unattractive or unpleasant to look at; offensive to the sense of beauty; displeasing in appearance “.
Wow. “Offensive to the sense of beauty”. That is something, isn't it ?
However, what is a sense of beauty ?
To understand the word ‘ugly’, we must first try and comprehend what is ‘beauty’?
Does beauty mean having a perfectly structured face such that of a Greek Goddess sculptor? Does beauty mean having a flawless skin ? Does beauty mean honey-smooth silk hair like Rapunzal ? Does beauty mean perfectly manicured nails, painted to perfection that glow like new satin gloves at the display of a high-end luxury brand ? Does beauty mean smelling like heaven and leaving a redolence that changes a mood? Does beauty mean having feather-like eye lashes, eyes that are clear as the waters in a calm ocean ?Does beauty mean having legs and arms that are scrubbed to remove all dirt and bumps and oiled with jasmine aroma oil so that they become so smooth that they feel like soft fur in a light winter morning?
But you know what people call me ?
They call me ‘ugly’. Initially, I went through a lot, trauma and self-doubt and low self-esteem but I outgrew that. It isn't easy even now. It kind of leaves you damaged. But you can choose not to let it get to you by understanding the whole thing about what does it mean to be beautiful and ugly . Look inside yourself and take yourself for this ride. Find out what is the truth.
Irony is, I never cared that much when I was a kid. I was very comfortable being invisible. Being invisible gives you a certain kind of power. It kind of keeps you protected. At least, I felt that way. Somehow, that invisibly cloak helped me preserve my real self, I reckon. But puberty hit me and I got a tad bit attention from boys (not many, don't worry) and I got carried away. I lost myself to the world of raging hormones and living life in naivety and impulsiveness. That was my teenage years- a handful of disastrous decisions and confusion. Thank God, it is over.
Then I was a fifteen year old, shy-gawky teen, unsure of herself. Ten years down the line, here I am writing this blog- a twenty five year old woman who believes in herself and has her feet firmly on the ground that she stands upon. And, that feeling is indescribable. And the journey has been not even a bit easy to put it frankly down on this blog post.
I am five-feet two inches tall. I am curvy (according to me, haha). I weigh 70 kilos, a bit much for my height. I guess, I should probably weigh 60 kilos. Trust me, I don't eat a lot yet it is my metabolism. I really cannot help it much but every new year, I promise myself I will go to the gym but I don't weigh that much to go the gym. I came to a conclusion that if I ever hit the gym, I would go only to stay fit and not because of all these issues. I love food. But I am not a fan of eating. I starve myself sometimes and it makes me feel pathetic. I have been depressed on so many occasions. Almost every guy I have dated has had a problem with my outer appearance (haha, like they look like George Clooney or something). I have found those incidents quite funny on the contrary. Wait, I am not done describing my superficial looks yet. Wait until you cringe. I am gonna make you . I have short legs that look fat but I find them cute because I really look cute in shorts and mini skirts but I don't look good in jeans. I have doe-eyes. They look like a pair of deer’s eyes. I have wheatish complexion and my nose is flat. I have blemishes on my face skin that I cover using concealers because people stare and I almost have a double chin. I need to trim my eyebrows once a month even though I don't like trimming them. I don't have much to begin with. However, I believe that I have beautiful lips because I have my dad’s lips and even though I don't like my eyes that much, they twinkle like my beloved mother’s; because I preferred greenish-blue eye balls that look like crystal marbles and long, soft, feather-like eyelashes like the ones I see in the movies… like Nicole Kidman’s in Moulin Rouge. I loved her in that film. Oh I used to pray to God to somehow elongate my short legs too after obsessing much over models from Victoria Secret. However, I do have a smooth skin and warm hands. My friends always hold them when they catch a cold. That makes me content because for them, they don't need me to have fairy-tale eyelashes and Victoria Secret model legs and gorgeous green eyes like Aishwarya Rai. Please don't get me wrong. I appreciate all of these beautiful , gorgeous women so much and that is why I wanted to be like them. I wanted to change every inch of me. And, it pained me that I would never even look like a quarter of how they look. Man, aren't they gorgeous!!
I wanted to have a plastic surgery by selling my kidney to have perfect hooked nose like a Greek - Goddess because sincerely I am obsessed with Greek and Roman mythology. I dreamed of having a perfectly curved waist that would measure “22” inch like those of the burlesque dancers, Oh, I really didn't mind the thought of having to remove parts of my rib cage to have that “22” inch waist that would make any guy swoon over me. Yes, I wanted it so bad. When I turned 18, I was engrossed with pop music and glossy magazines with fancy clothes, clothes that I could not afford and had started to day-dream about how one day, I would be that ‘beautiful’. That diminished my self esteem day by day. Because I could not fulfil my boyfriend’s expectation of me to be ‘beautiful’ at a fragile age of 18. Little did I know that I had a beautiful life ahead of me, waiting to be explored. He said I was ‘ugly’ every single day and cheated on and I took it all because I THOUGHT I deserved it. I had completely lost myself.
I am not suggesting a girl/woman shouldn't maintain personal hygiene. That is priority. However, when I turned 23, things started to change for the better. I ditched my conniving boyfriend who never deserved even an inch of me and moved to New Delhi. Looking back now, it helped me figure out what I DID NOT WANT IN LIFE and I am so glad.
I literally screwed up my life to a point where I felt that I could not make it any better but something happened to me. One day, it all changed. I started a journey inward, unknowingly but I reckon I was kind of ready by then otherwise that inception wouldn't have happened in the first place. It was an inception to a journey BACK TO MYSELF, the ‘self’ that I had preserved using that invisibility cloak when I was a child.
Also studying and getting involved in journalism changed me somewhere.
I was thrown off-guard to a completely different world where pain meant actual pain. It was much more real than those glossy magazines that I held onto for so long in my teenage years. I started reading more than ever and getting involved with real heart-wrenching stories, I was opened to people’s suffering and along the way met eminent people who has fought real wars and came back alive to tell the stories of how far one would go for their motherland and heard stories from strangers about strange lands and strange people and strange tales that I had never heard before. I started to travel too. I became more and more open to the mysteries of the world and the Universe and tried to stay true to myself, I still am trying. Slowly and gradually, I forgot about selling my kidney to get a nose job I could not afford and started worrying about people who lived in extreme poverty without proper sanitation, food and clean water. I started to lose sleep over rape victims, gay men who get killed and tortured, I started to get angry over the fake world I lived in, in a fake bubble that I had built for myself and started to unlearn all the conditioned lessons that I grew up learning that fit to suit only some. I started to peel off the dirty sheets and shredded myself piece by piece everywhere I went ...
When I was shown how beautiful it was ,it was real nice to actually step out into the blazing sun and taste the sunlight, I never wanted to go back to the cave and see the shadows. I just cannot. And I do not care if people hate me or love me for the path that has been chosen by me, I shall be true to it because this reality is so much more clear and better that the perceived/made up reality that was actually made up and far removed from the reality that I had started to live. I would choose this path of truth in a hundred lifetimes (if there ever is), over and over and over again.
I appreciate every kind of beauty. However, I am skeptical about the word,’ugly’. I know it must exist to give meaning to what is ‘beauty’. But in my dictionary, nothing is ever ugly. I really don't know. I am just a mad woman ranting. Everything is beautiful in its own way,perhaps. But you know what I find ugly ?War is ugly. Probably, yeah, I would say that war is ugly. Poverty is ugly.Starvation is ugly.Not having enough clean water to drink is ugly.Terrorism is ugly. Killing innocent people for power is ugly. Raping someone is ugly. Degrading someone is ugly. Negative feelings are ugly. In my dictionary, these are some of the things that are ugly in its right sense which also give meaning to what is beautiful (in my dictionary, again); what is beautiful according to me is Love, Friendship, Courage, Empathy, Understanding, Knowledge, Art, all of nature…. they are beautiful.
No one can make me uglier than I am or more beautiful than I am. That is what I own, truly mine. Both ~ my ugliness and beauty, I embrace, wholly for they cannot exist one without the other.
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| A journey inward. Walk and keep walking until the end because;we've got "miles to go before we sleep". |
Is there such a thing called “ugly’?
As an adjective, the dictionary says that ‘ugly’ means something “very unattractive or unpleasant to look at; offensive to the sense of beauty; displeasing in appearance “.
Wow. “Offensive to the sense of beauty”. That is something, isn't it ?
However, what is a sense of beauty ?
To understand the word ‘ugly’, we must first try and comprehend what is ‘beauty’?
Does beauty mean having a perfectly structured face such that of a Greek Goddess sculptor? Does beauty mean having a flawless skin ? Does beauty mean honey-smooth silk hair like Rapunzal ? Does beauty mean perfectly manicured nails, painted to perfection that glow like new satin gloves at the display of a high-end luxury brand ? Does beauty mean smelling like heaven and leaving a redolence that changes a mood? Does beauty mean having feather-like eye lashes, eyes that are clear as the waters in a calm ocean ?Does beauty mean having legs and arms that are scrubbed to remove all dirt and bumps and oiled with jasmine aroma oil so that they become so smooth that they feel like soft fur in a light winter morning?
But you know what people call me ?
They call me ‘ugly’. Initially, I went through a lot, trauma and self-doubt and low self-esteem but I outgrew that. It isn't easy even now. It kind of leaves you damaged. But you can choose not to let it get to you by understanding the whole thing about what does it mean to be beautiful and ugly . Look inside yourself and take yourself for this ride. Find out what is the truth.
Irony is, I never cared that much when I was a kid. I was very comfortable being invisible. Being invisible gives you a certain kind of power. It kind of keeps you protected. At least, I felt that way. Somehow, that invisibly cloak helped me preserve my real self, I reckon. But puberty hit me and I got a tad bit attention from boys (not many, don't worry) and I got carried away. I lost myself to the world of raging hormones and living life in naivety and impulsiveness. That was my teenage years- a handful of disastrous decisions and confusion. Thank God, it is over.
Then I was a fifteen year old, shy-gawky teen, unsure of herself. Ten years down the line, here I am writing this blog- a twenty five year old woman who believes in herself and has her feet firmly on the ground that she stands upon. And, that feeling is indescribable. And the journey has been not even a bit easy to put it frankly down on this blog post.
I am five-feet two inches tall. I am curvy (according to me, haha). I weigh 70 kilos, a bit much for my height. I guess, I should probably weigh 60 kilos. Trust me, I don't eat a lot yet it is my metabolism. I really cannot help it much but every new year, I promise myself I will go to the gym but I don't weigh that much to go the gym. I came to a conclusion that if I ever hit the gym, I would go only to stay fit and not because of all these issues. I love food. But I am not a fan of eating. I starve myself sometimes and it makes me feel pathetic. I have been depressed on so many occasions. Almost every guy I have dated has had a problem with my outer appearance (haha, like they look like George Clooney or something). I have found those incidents quite funny on the contrary. Wait, I am not done describing my superficial looks yet. Wait until you cringe. I am gonna make you . I have short legs that look fat but I find them cute because I really look cute in shorts and mini skirts but I don't look good in jeans. I have doe-eyes. They look like a pair of deer’s eyes. I have wheatish complexion and my nose is flat. I have blemishes on my face skin that I cover using concealers because people stare and I almost have a double chin. I need to trim my eyebrows once a month even though I don't like trimming them. I don't have much to begin with. However, I believe that I have beautiful lips because I have my dad’s lips and even though I don't like my eyes that much, they twinkle like my beloved mother’s; because I preferred greenish-blue eye balls that look like crystal marbles and long, soft, feather-like eyelashes like the ones I see in the movies… like Nicole Kidman’s in Moulin Rouge. I loved her in that film. Oh I used to pray to God to somehow elongate my short legs too after obsessing much over models from Victoria Secret. However, I do have a smooth skin and warm hands. My friends always hold them when they catch a cold. That makes me content because for them, they don't need me to have fairy-tale eyelashes and Victoria Secret model legs and gorgeous green eyes like Aishwarya Rai. Please don't get me wrong. I appreciate all of these beautiful , gorgeous women so much and that is why I wanted to be like them. I wanted to change every inch of me. And, it pained me that I would never even look like a quarter of how they look. Man, aren't they gorgeous!!
I wanted to have a plastic surgery by selling my kidney to have perfect hooked nose like a Greek - Goddess because sincerely I am obsessed with Greek and Roman mythology. I dreamed of having a perfectly curved waist that would measure “22” inch like those of the burlesque dancers, Oh, I really didn't mind the thought of having to remove parts of my rib cage to have that “22” inch waist that would make any guy swoon over me. Yes, I wanted it so bad. When I turned 18, I was engrossed with pop music and glossy magazines with fancy clothes, clothes that I could not afford and had started to day-dream about how one day, I would be that ‘beautiful’. That diminished my self esteem day by day. Because I could not fulfil my boyfriend’s expectation of me to be ‘beautiful’ at a fragile age of 18. Little did I know that I had a beautiful life ahead of me, waiting to be explored. He said I was ‘ugly’ every single day and cheated on and I took it all because I THOUGHT I deserved it. I had completely lost myself.
I am not suggesting a girl/woman shouldn't maintain personal hygiene. That is priority. However, when I turned 23, things started to change for the better. I ditched my conniving boyfriend who never deserved even an inch of me and moved to New Delhi. Looking back now, it helped me figure out what I DID NOT WANT IN LIFE and I am so glad.
I literally screwed up my life to a point where I felt that I could not make it any better but something happened to me. One day, it all changed. I started a journey inward, unknowingly but I reckon I was kind of ready by then otherwise that inception wouldn't have happened in the first place. It was an inception to a journey BACK TO MYSELF, the ‘self’ that I had preserved using that invisibility cloak when I was a child.
Also studying and getting involved in journalism changed me somewhere.
I was thrown off-guard to a completely different world where pain meant actual pain. It was much more real than those glossy magazines that I held onto for so long in my teenage years. I started reading more than ever and getting involved with real heart-wrenching stories, I was opened to people’s suffering and along the way met eminent people who has fought real wars and came back alive to tell the stories of how far one would go for their motherland and heard stories from strangers about strange lands and strange people and strange tales that I had never heard before. I started to travel too. I became more and more open to the mysteries of the world and the Universe and tried to stay true to myself, I still am trying. Slowly and gradually, I forgot about selling my kidney to get a nose job I could not afford and started worrying about people who lived in extreme poverty without proper sanitation, food and clean water. I started to lose sleep over rape victims, gay men who get killed and tortured, I started to get angry over the fake world I lived in, in a fake bubble that I had built for myself and started to unlearn all the conditioned lessons that I grew up learning that fit to suit only some. I started to peel off the dirty sheets and shredded myself piece by piece everywhere I went ...
When I was shown how beautiful it was ,it was real nice to actually step out into the blazing sun and taste the sunlight, I never wanted to go back to the cave and see the shadows. I just cannot. And I do not care if people hate me or love me for the path that has been chosen by me, I shall be true to it because this reality is so much more clear and better that the perceived/made up reality that was actually made up and far removed from the reality that I had started to live. I would choose this path of truth in a hundred lifetimes (if there ever is), over and over and over again.
I appreciate every kind of beauty. However, I am skeptical about the word,’ugly’. I know it must exist to give meaning to what is ‘beauty’. But in my dictionary, nothing is ever ugly. I really don't know. I am just a mad woman ranting. Everything is beautiful in its own way,perhaps. But you know what I find ugly ?War is ugly. Probably, yeah, I would say that war is ugly. Poverty is ugly.Starvation is ugly.Not having enough clean water to drink is ugly.Terrorism is ugly. Killing innocent people for power is ugly. Raping someone is ugly. Degrading someone is ugly. Negative feelings are ugly. In my dictionary, these are some of the things that are ugly in its right sense which also give meaning to what is beautiful (in my dictionary, again); what is beautiful according to me is Love, Friendship, Courage, Empathy, Understanding, Knowledge, Art, all of nature…. they are beautiful.
No one can make me uglier than I am or more beautiful than I am. That is what I own, truly mine. Both ~ my ugliness and beauty, I embrace, wholly for they cannot exist one without the other.
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