Ah those two syllables

My friend and I, sitting on the stairs right outside our college canteen in a wonderfully breezy weather, were exchanging epiphanies, because isn’t that what we young-adults do best! (I have a problem with calling myself an adult, more on that some other day). I had dressed myself in a magenta kurti, jeggings and black pumps which were quite definitely not pain-free. But I liked them, a lot in fact. She said I looked pretty, and teased me about it. That’s when we hit upon this conclusion at the same time – we have never, ever dressed for a guy in our lives.

Maybe that has something to do with the fact that both of us are single. Maybe not, really. But one thing is for certain, we have never dressed with the objective of impressing a guy. And I am saying this because I see girls all around me brimming with insecurity, not because they don’t consider themselves to be pretty, but because a guy (or in general, guys) doesn’t consider her to be pretty.

I won’t lie to you, I did give it all a thought. Rather lots and lots of thoughts. Because, frankly, I was curious – am I, just like so many of my friends, insecure about my self? And I realised, not so much. It’s not that I never feet bad about my body, or that I never complain about how thin my hair is. It’s just that I don’t cry over it.

And the reason I have never mourned about it is because I have never felt that silly need to look pretty. Not that I don’t like to look pretty, don’t get me wrong, because I do. I have only come to that place where I know I can’t change the way I look, and even though sometimes my face looks all bloated and double-chinned with a forehead full of acne, it is OKAY. I still look quite nice.

The point I am trying to make is, I wasn’t born to simply look pretty. But that does not immediately become equivalent to not caring about how I look.

And hence what follows is that whichever day I plan to suddenly dress with a bit more care and time, I do it just for myself. I look into the mirror and feel good because I like it, not because I think someone else might like it. Life is already way too complicated without adding the lengthy predictions about another human being’s opinions about your attire.

I guess it’s the feminist in me talking. I do hate it when self-proclaimed feminist frown upon well-dressed women. I don’t believe that feminism is suddenly not caring about how you look or leaving behind every desire to wear a really beautiful dress or feel a bit girly. Rather it is not feel an unearthly urge to do it all for someone whose opinion won’t change your life around one bit. Go wear makeup and a cocktail dress, just do it because you want to.