“I, Sujhini Rajkumar of house ‘I don’t give one fuck about it’ , protector of my own sorry arse, pledge that I will take a good long and relishing look at myself in the mirror everyday.Just the way it is.”
Had I not taken the most mundane resolution for the year! Well if I hadn’t myself known what sense I make, it’ll probably sound like “I promise to poop everyday”. The good thing is I perfectly know that I make good sense. What else could explain the weirdest words I took up as a resolution with a pretty lame game of thrones reference (bingo! to those who did not get it, because I myself got obsessed with it recently). By the end of this article you will come in terms with the fact that these words make more sense than it sounds. What is the big deal about looking in a mirror everyday, people do that, weird evil dolls do it. Why, even Hannibal Lecter does that, all the time! Now, this calls for a flashback doesn’t it
Turning the page to one fine afternoon, I was preparing myself for a shower. When I say ‘preparing’, it means a whole lot of preparation than that of my semester tests. It religiously starts from heating the water to my exclusive temperature, wandering naked around the room aimlessly, without realizing it and making a ‘shower playlist’ inappropriate enough to keep my mom out from walking in( Well, if she ever does that, she is most likely to find her daughter twerking like an oaf!). Very recently I realized that something goes missing from my ‘pre-shower rituals’. Something I refuse to do with full conscious and against my conscience.
I always refuse to look in the mirror. I won’t term myself as catoptrophobic because I don’t think I have a morbid dislike for mirrors. As a matter of fact, I have a particular relationship with them. You can see me talking and making out with it sometimes.(hey, no judgements here!). Only that, I do it with my clothes and make up on. I do like the well dressed version of myself, hence no complaints on that. But why do I refrain my naked self from getting the same lust and glory. Loving and nurturing my body is something that I don’t need much coping to do with. I can proudly call it my forte. Yet I carefully avoid looking in mirror.
For the first time I realized, I was afraid of my own skin. I realized that I wasn’t hiding from mirrors, I was hiding from myself. For someone who strongly believes in body positivity and self acceptance why is it so hard to accept a body in which they were born. To quench that curiosity I decided to do it with full awareness, paying attention to every single detail. Hence I stepped in front of a mirror, peeling the clothes off my body. Then I realized what goes wrong and where it does. For every layer of clothes I take off my body, the love I had for it went a notch down. It wasn’t like I have never seen myself naked before. Yet my body seemed alien to me. I felt detached from the respect I had for myself.
Where did I go wrong, Did I hate myself? I must have tried to find answers instead, I started coming up with excuses. And the best I could muster up was “PMS definitely!” An excuse is never an answer, I knew that very well. The answer was hushed up inside my eyes. I looked alien to myself because it was never me who looked through my eyes. I conveniently let people look at me through my eyes. I let those who say ‘too dark to be pretty’ to look at my color. I let those who say ‘too young to look old’ to look at my lines and marks. I let those who say ‘Not carved right’ to look at my curves and lifts. I gave in to the unknown, leaving it to them to decide for me. While they constantly whispered to me ‘you are not a material to look at’.
This is where I get to play the knight. I decide to fight against the whisper. I decide to break the stereotypical beauty standards set to human body and this time I decide for myself. We humans are designed to have different types of skin, shape, color and hair. Anything that is made of real flesh blood and bones are bound look different and bound to look beautiful in its own way. If anyone out there finds it difficult to accept this fact and desires to set a prototype to destroy the beauty in diversity, fuck a mannequin for heaven sake!.
Hot or not, smart or not, I decided the way I want to be. And that is why I take up a new resolution for this new year. Every day I will let myself have a look at myself at the mirror and absolutely fall in love with the way I am. I will accept and respect every single detail and every single flaws I bear. I will not flinch if I feel like I have put on weight. This is no revolution yet a step ahead. A road that might lead to self-respect. After all my ‘funny resolution’ must serve a purpose isn’t it.