Tag Archives: Teen life

My lists

So I introduced an idea a few weeks back. It’s in the post titled Take it off. It was that we all should make two lists. Under one head we should list down the things we don’t like about ourselves which are more physical in nature, and under the other one we should list down the things that we like about ourselves which are not physical.

Obviously, I expected some people to hit me up and tell me that it isn’t so easy to love one’s self. They told me that someone who has spent decades hating the way that they look cannot just change that by making some stupid list and embracing themselves. And if I think I’m so good at this accepting myself thing, why don’t I make a list and post it on my blog for the world to see.

I hated the fact that they seemed to assume that I had no insecurities and thought that I think I’m perfect. I’m not. I’m actually very very very far away from it. You think I don’t get that envious chill when I see someone like Gigi Hadid, or Adele or Lisa Hayden? No, it’s not that I don’t get insecurities. It’s just that I am what I am and I cannot change it. I’ve accepted it. When I had really bad insecurities about my looks, I actually thought about getting a rhinoplasty. There was even a family joke about it. What they didn’t know was that their jokes hurt me. My nose is weird. It’s not big or small..It’s weird. I don’t even know what shape to call it. I started taking the idea of changing my nose very seriously. Then one day my glasses slipped down lower on my nose, making my nose smaller in appearance. I looked in the mirror and thought…Is that me? That didn’t look like me. I didn’t like it very much. I didn’t want to look different. It occurred to me that even if I did change my nose, I wouldn’t like it very much. What’s the point of spending all that money and still not liking myself?

So, no. I don’t think I’m the the most beautiful person in the world. No, I don’t have the confidence of someone who doesn’t give a fuck. No, I do not think that I’m invincible and most importantly, No I don’t think I have the power to change anyone’s opinions just by posting something on the internet. It has to be you who does it. I can probably help a little by telling you that it is do-able and not the most bizarre thing in the world. Loving one’s self is difficult, especially when you’re your worst enemy.

But if knowing about my lists make you feel better, and makes you think that it’s possible that you can accept your body, and love yourself then I will gladly do it.

The things that I don’t like about my physical appearance are:

  1. I have these small bumps and red dots all over my arms and legs. I don’t know what they are, they’ve just been there ever since I can remember.
  2. My hair. It changes seasonally and since monsoon is coming, I need an army to protect my hair from frizz and shit like that.
  3. My vagina. Long story, but I’m very, very insecure of how it looks.
  4. I regret the scars on my thighs.
  5. My elbows and Knees. They’ve always looked like I was born in a coal mine. Again, no idea why.

The things that I like about myself that aren’t physical:

  1. I forgive people easily.
  2. I’m there for people. No matter what. Literally.
  3. I’m loyal.
  4. I defend my people to hell and back ( I guess that comes under loyalty)
  5. I do not judge. Like, at all.
  6. I’m independent.
  7. I learn from my mistakes
  8. I work hard. (Remember when I was working 17 hours a day?)
  9. I’m funny, man. It’s dark humor, offensive humor and way more sex jokes than should be allowed, but funny regardless.
  10. I’m strong as fuck, bro. Sometimes I surprise myself.( I didn’t think I’d survive 30th June of last year, 28th August of last year or 28th April of this year, or 22nd May of this year. But I did. I’m so proud of myself for that. I’m not saying I’m unbreakable or that I can’t be hurt. No, all I’m saying is that I’m capable of handling a lot of things that life’s thrown at me.)
  11. I accept myself.

So there you go. My lists are all out in the open. My lists of things I like about myself is longer, because I’ve developed those traits. Not to impress anyone, but to become a better person. For the people around me and for myself.

Again, by no means am I suggesting that I’m over every little insecurity that I had. I’m not. But no one, and I mean absolutely no one in this world is going to make me feel bad about my body, not even me. Especially not me. You can point out my mistakes, you can remind me of them for the rest of my life, but you cannot say that I haven’t changed for the better. And I will keep on changing.

So should you. If you don’t love yourself today, it’s okay. You will if you try to. You will fail, but that’s okay. Nobody succeeded without failing first. You’re not doing things right if you aren’t failing. So failing is okay. Be sure to get back in the game and start from the scratch if need be. You’re worth all this effort. Trust me.

You’re beautiful and you’re unique and the world wouldn’t be the same without you.

 

 

 

 

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Explain.

Explain something to me, if you will. I’m a firm believer when it comes to love that you only get one. One, and that’s it. I don’t mean the random dating, or sleeping around or when you just use people. No, I’m talking actual love. If you’ve fallen in love once, you cannot do it again, at least according to me. Yes, it is possible that you’ve failed a few times before you get the right person, but were the past ones actually “Love”? See, I’m the last person to talk about any of this. So bear with me if you want, or correct me if I’m wrong.

How do you fall out of love with someone? How does it happen? You just stop caring about someone who means the world to you? That seems a little impossible to me, if I’m honest. I may not like people in general, but I don’t think I actually hate anyone. I’m a stupidly forgiving person so I might be wrong but is there some internal switch I don’t know about? I was listening to “Love yourself” by Justin Beiber a few days ago and there’s this line which says I fell in love now I feel nothing at all.  Well, maybe you didn’t love her at all, jackass. Because everyone I know who has actually been in love are in two situations. Either they’re still together or they’re still in love with that person. And those who are still hung up, have legit reasons to get over their partners but they can’t because they actually loved them. I think they’re right. Once you love someone you can’t over them because it happens once. Once. That’s it.

I’ve seen my friends dying inside everytime they see a picture of their former partners with someone else. It literally looks like someone has stabbed them in the heart. They go from ear to ear smile to don’t-know-how-to-breathe in one second. I get it, it must be hard to see the person you loved with your life with someone else. Now, to be completely honest my friends are idiots, too. They did some super stupid shit which lead to their break up but tell me something. Couldn’t they be forgiven? Were their mistakes really worth breaking up over? Then again, what do I know? I’d forgive anything if I truly loved someone and believed that they loved me. I mean, of course not literally everything is forgivable but almost everything is.

What I believe is that if you actually love someone it’s magic. Because think about it for a second. You guys aren’t related. You have no obligations or reasons to love them. There’s “blood is thicker than water” kind of bond. You have absolutely no reason to love them but you still do. It’s magic and once the magic takes place I don’t think there exists a spell to undo that kind of magic.

I mean just look at us, man. We whine that we’re alone and when we do find someone we mess things up for no reason. There’s either lack of consideration of lack of forgiveness. One cancels out another, I think. Why do we make things so complicated? Most of the things are forgivable. I understand, once someone messes up they need to learn a lesson. But guess what? People do change. I’m not saying stupid lines like “Love is blind” and all that shit. Love is seeing everything and still accepting them.

No matter what.

But then again, what do I know right?

 

Shame.

So throughout this post I’m going to pretend that I actually am someone who is entitles to have an opinion on things like self confidence, body image and such things. So bear with me.

I’m a little annoyed when everyone keeps on asking me things like, “You’re kind of overconfident, aren’t you?” Uh, yes I am. It took me YEARS to be confident with my skin. Constant reminders from everyone who called me ‘Fat’ and ‘Round’ and ‘Fat-ass’ didn’t really help, either. If I wore clothes too loose, it was a problem and it was an even bigger problem if I wore them tight. I couldn’t show too much skin because what am I, trying to get cat-called everywhere I go? I couldn’t wear clothes which covered me too much because then I’m a prude who doesn’t know how to dress.  I was constantly reminded that I wasn’t as pretty as the other girls and that I should learn to behave and dress more like them. It’s hard being my body type and then dealing with these comparisons, too. I’m not lying when I say that I actually considered plastic surgery to change how I looked. I ruined my body because if something is already ugly, what difference a few more scars are going to make, right?

Then it was October and I’d gotten my first five figure check. I was an 18 year old, working 17 hours a day, dealing with so much shit and making more than anyone in my family. I was going to put myself through law school. I was independent and I guess that was the little push that I needed. It might sound weird, but it was Donatella that gave me the first shred of confidence. I mean the song, not Versace. I listened to it over and over and over and over again. I didn’t need the approval of anyone else to convince me that I’m a bomb. I didn’t need other people telling me this on social media. Hell, I didn’t care what anyone thought.

It’s my goddamn choice to rock a turtleneck or a tank top. I don’t care if I’m showing too much skin or too little of it. Guess what? I love it and you can shove your unasked opinion right up our anal cavity, thank you very much.

Now, another set of people who didn’t develop further than the stage of being an asshole are the ones who think that if you look good and you feel good about yourself you have got to be doing it for ‘someone’ else. These people make me laugh, really. You think I own every shade of red lipstick, just to impress some dumbfuck who doesn’t see the difference between Ruby Woo and Classic pirate? You think I’m wearing a winged eyeliner sharp enough to kill, it’s for some  guy? Are you serious? Guys don’t know shit about make-up. I was shopping online once and I asked my friend which one of the two shades were better.

Me: Okay, which one will look good on me?

Palash: *Glances over at my phone* What’s the difference?

So if anyone in the world thinks that she’s putting on make-up for you, you need to get down from that imaginary horse you have because no woman does her make-up to impress anyone other than herself.

Now, getting back to the point. Big surprise! You will have a billion reasons in the world to feel bad about yourself. You will make so many mistakes in your life that you will start hating yourself. But making mistakes shouldn’t make you hate yourself or your body. The best thing you can do is apologize for it, and pray to every god there is that you will get forgiveness from those who you seek. You can’t do anything else, to be honest. We don’t have a time machine yet (At least as far as I know). You need to own up to what you did, accept consequences and come out a better person. People with negativity will always leech themselves onto you because they can’t get over their own insecurities. It’s a  Hum to doobenge, tumhe bhi le doobenge type of situation. We didn’t get over our issues then why should you? You need to surround yourself with better people, people who support you no matter what or a million blog posts from a nobody like me won’t help.

You are a bomb the day you decide to be. Have no shame in taking compliments, you deserve them. Do whatever makes YOU feel good and flip the bird to anyone who says otherwise. You’ve got a scarred body? Cut? Burned? So do I. So do more than 7 billion people out there. People seem to have this misconception that guys aren’t victims of body shaming. Yes, they are, and they don’t get enough light when this issue is talked about. It’s not easy to be a guy and be commented negatively based on physical appearance, either. All this shade people throw on each other just based on how they look is the stupidest thing to do with your time.

You are who you are, and no one has the power to change it and no one should. I don’t wanna be weird and quote Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta, but

“You’re beautiful in your way, because God makes no mistakes.”

These words are everything, and it doesn’t matter if you believe in a God(s) or not. You were made the way you were and there are no mistakes when it comes to that. There’s a plan set out and everything is going accordingly.

So if you’re down about anything, get out of bed, listen to some gangsta rap, fix yourself something to eat, put yourself together and reign like the Queen/King you are.

 

 

 

 

 

The difference.

If you follow the Mumbai end of the Agra-Bombay road a little further after regional Park in indore, there comes a village called Bijalpur. It’s before IIM indore, and you need to take a twisted left to reach there. If you take a right, you’ll go back into the city. Not if you take left. If you take a left, you’ll be introduced to a whole new world.
This isn’t a geography lesson about Indore, I’m getting to the point.
Bijalpur is a village. But take the image of an Indian village your head, add a township to it’s left and also, in the starting add few of the most lavish houses I’ve ever seen in my life. But if you go further inside, it’s a village.
The people living there don’t consider themselves living in indore. To them, indore is a different city. They have their own community,and it’s very tightly joint together. Everyone there knows everyone, and are somehow related. Now, the main occupation of that place is farming and politics. People there speak malvi. I’m fluent because my mother’s side speaks that language. Now the people of bijalpur can speak Hindi, too but they prefer to talk in malvi among themselves.
So, I go there everyday to teach. No, it’s not a volunteer thing that I’m doing for free. I’m not that a good person that I’ll go 12 kilometres everyday, one way, to do something for free. I get paid pretty well to teach there. So at first, it was only out of boredom. I needed a distraction to take my mind away from the falling castle that my life was. At first, I hated working too. But I had an obligation, so I did it. After a couple of days, that became the highlight of my day. I teach kids from 8th to 12th, so thank god I don’t have to deal with the little ones otherwise I would’ve shot myself.
I don’t know why, everyone there is so happy. So freakin happy all the bloody time. It was annoying at first, like my life has just fallen apart, I need to start from scratch, what the hell are you so happy about?! But their happiness was infectious.
My students consist mainly of a bunch of boys who are happy, hard working and actually intelligent. Most of their parents aren’t that well educated, so they have this fire in them about studying as much as they can. And by this, I do not mean they’re all very quite and don’t make a noise and study all the time. Lol no. They’re too much to handle sometimes. My first day there, and their questions wouldn’t stop. Who are you? What’s your name? What phone do you have? What apps do you use? Are you engaged? Married? And I was just like…how old do you think I am?(By that I found out that the girls in their community are likely to be engaged before they are 18 and soon after they pass high school, they get married. It took me a while to digest that, but I know I can’t really do anything about it, other than encourage those 4 girls I teach to first get an education and then get married. In fact, a lot of my students are engaged. I’ve reached a point where instead of worrying, I tease them about it.)
During my orientation, I remember the owner said that the kids take their teachers very seriously. We have this thing in our culture about respecting our teachers more than God himself. I know right? It’s not like I deserve respect. Sounds all heavy and serious. But it’s not Bullshit. They actually would help me whenever I need them.
A day before teacher’s day, my college had an event. It ran pretty late, but instead of staying at my college and dancing to EDM I directly went from college to bijalpur. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I drive a death vehicle. I’m not even kidding. God knows what all is wrong with my scooter. I know it’s living it’s last moments, but I’m not ready to let go yet.
So here I am, in a full fledged traditional suit, with a kurta that goes below my ankles, heavy as fuck, make up on, earrings and bangles and all that….on my scooter in about 35° Celsius.
Now, before that twisted left turn there’s a bridge. I ta literally called “Gadbadi wala pull”. So right before it, my scooter broke down. You know why? I ran out of petrol. I was screwed. I called my senior at work and told him that I was stuck and probably won’t make it to work. He asked my why and I told him what the problem was. He told me to wait and that he’d be there in 10 minutes. Between the time that he came, two people asked if I needed help. One uncle even offered to give me petrol. And none of it was in a creepy way. They actually, genuinely wanted to help me. Then sir came, along with a 12th standard kid. He told me and the kid to take his bike and that he’d bring my scooter afterwards. I knew it meant dragging my scooter to the petrol station and then bringing it to the class.
I am seriously not comfortable with someone doing that for me. Especially when the person is my employer. But he insisted and I realised he meant that kids were sitting waiting for me. So I went with the kid, and then sir came back half an hour later. He wouldn’t even let me reimburse him for the petrol he got.
I don’t think anyone would’ve done that in the city. Because he wasn’t my friend, my relative, or anything…he was my employer who’s got kids as old as me.
So…yeah, maybe that’s the difference between us and them.  We’d rather be where we are and let other people fix their problems. That’s why I go there everyday without default because I know that I’ll end up learning more from them than they’ll for me.

The wedding blues.

My aunt got married at the starting of this month. Because we belong to a typical Bramhin Family in Middle India, it was a five day function.

Oh, god I hated every second of it. I was in pure agony by the end of day one.

There are ample of reasons for my anti social behavior in weddings, especially of my mother’s side. It’s just…they’re really annoying, mean and kanjus people. They act as if they’ll take their money with them when they die. (Chati pe leke marenge). They’ve been cursed with really narrow minds and they refuse to evolve with the world. Only a couple of them are tolerable, otherwise every single one of them was after me.

Why?

Because in their pathetic, limited minds, I’ll be the next one to get married. 

It was their luck that my mother was present, otherwise so help me god, I would’ve given every single one of them something to talk about.

I’ll not be getting married for a really, really long time. I have to live my life before I’m ready to give someone else an equal say.

This aunt that got married? Brightest person I’ve ever seen in my life. School topper, College topper, and got offered a job from Infosys right after college.

She gave all that up to get married. Who does that?! Who the hell leaves Infosys to get married? But whatever, it’s her life, and I don’t get a say, But no one, I mean NO ONE, gets to speculate that I’ll be the next to get married, because I won’t. From what I know about myself, I’ll be the last one to get married in my family.

Why should they wager who’s the next one, who’ll be the last and so on? One was after me because I don’t wear a nose ring. Why should I? I hate nose rings, they’d look pathetic on me. One after the other they came at me with their swords drawn. My height, my weight, my clothes, my features, my nose(very sensitive topic for me), my hair…kuch nahi choda. Heights of being a pain in one’s ass. Then again, they’d tease me about me being the next to get married.

I’LL NOT BE THE NEXT ONE TO BLOODY GET MARRIED! I wanted to shout on top of my lungs.

I have to cross off everything in my bucket list. I have to see the world, have awesome experiences, sleep on stations waiting for the next train, fall in love, get my heart broken, repeat 😛

There’s so much to do before you get married. My list is especially long. I don’t want to just complete college and then get set up with some chomu my parents found for me. Why should I settle when being unsettling is so fun? 

And you know the worst part? Worse than people related to my mother saying that a girl is made for getting married? The food, man! I went to the wedding because I was promised good, heavy, greasy, unhealthy food. But nope! It was the worse food I’d ever had at any wedding. 

Oh, and one more thing! There was this guy at the wedding, really hot and taller than me…turned out to be a year younger than me. Te next day, he messaged me on Facebook, and I found out he was a creep.

The heat in June was no help either. You could go out in the sun and feel your skin melting to your bones. If it weren’t for a centrally air conditioned venue, I would’ve been back at my home by the second day.

So, by far the worst week I’d ever had. I could’ve stayed at home and read Iliad…Instead, I gave five days of my life to a wedding.

The only upside was that I looked better than I usually did. I left my homeless look at home and acted like a girl for a change. The late night Girl talk was also….interesting (Mostly gross, but I guess to normal girls it was amusing)

Apart from that, I got rejected by four different colleges…so yeah, I was upset for a while. But I realized that I’ve got next year, and I’m going to try into Law Schools again, and hopefully, I’ll get the one I so desperately want.

There’s no point in getting anything easy, is there? Where’s the sense of satisfaction in getting something easy? Unless you work for it, it’s as good as a favor done on you by the universe. (Bheek mein mila lagta hai)

 There’s no fun in not fighting. 

So, I’ll keep on fighting till I’ll get what I want, and then proudly say that I earned it.

Your secret is safe

Okay, the only reason I’m still posting here while my boards are going on is because I’ve recently learned that people who’ve told me the stories of their lives have also admitted to me that they’re scared by the fact that they’ve told me everything.

Here’s the thing.

I don’t go around telling the whole world what happened to you. Gossip is one thing, and sensitive matters are a whole different category of secrets.

I know how it feels like when you spill your guts to your stranger. It feels good for about an hour, and then the panic kicks in. I know, okay, I know how scary that can be. I’ve tried it. I’ve been where you’re at, that’s why I say how important it is to just say whatever you feel like to a person you know will keep your secret.

What will I get from telling people stories about your life? Why will I do something to others that I don’t want happening to myself? Come-freaking-on!

Whatever you’ve said to me in person, email, Facebook, or whatever is literally going to go with me. It’s never ever be spread out to other people.

As far as the fear of judging goes, I’m the last person in this big mad world who will judge you. Why? Because I’ve done more dumb stuff in my life than I care to remember.

So, the gossip part is out. The judging part is out.

Why the hell are you scared now?

I’m not carnivore. I’m not going to bite you if you tell me your problems (A few months back, I wouldn’t be so sure, but that’s irrelevant now)

If you’re reluctant to talk to me, then it’s your choice. I’m not going to hold you collar down or put you on gunpoint to tell me everything that’s happened to you!

But if you do decide to tell me, trust me on this, you have no reason to fear it afterwards. I’m not Charles Augustus Magnussen. I’m not going to blackmail you later in life in exchange for something.

So, I know most of you are going to read this.

Don’t be afraid. Fear is what’s going to take us down one day, it’s better we dump it first.

It’s here….

Okay, this day is coming sooner than I’d expected. It’s what I’ve been dreading for the past year…

The C.B.S.E. Board Examinations 2014 are starting from 1st March. Mine will drag till 10th April…

Panic Level :Extreme
This exam will literally be the piece of paper which determines my future….

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA………..!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s here…!!! 😮

Unavoidable Defect

I know I’m not the most social person on this Earth. I don’t know how to make conversations. I don’t know how to express myself apart from writing. Actually talking to people orally scares me. Yes, it frightens the living daylights out of me.

I stammer a lot more than I used to think a year ago. I don’t know if I do that under pressure, or I’m excited or god knows when. I just stammer, and it’s getting way, way out of control.

I’ve always been teased about it, especially in middle school, the part of my schooling I’d like to erase from my memory. More often than not, I laugh with them as well. Because I know that they don’t actually mean those stinging words. Teasing me about my stammering, I can handle. But when people started making fun of me for it, and meaning each and every word, it hurt.

It’s stupid, isn’t it? I don’t care what anybody says or thinks. I’m in my own bubble of books, music, and in the company of selected friends. Baaki sab jaye ghaans charne (Everything else can go to the deepest pit of hell.) Then why is this bothering me now? Nothing else about me bother me. I’m fat, I’m lazy, I’m an average student, I’m not good at any one particular thing. None of these things bothers me, but my stammering does. I don’t know why, it makes me feel like I’m such a…loser. It’s like, come on! Can’t you speak one sentence without stammering at least twice? It takes repeating attempts to speak a simple word as “Please”, at times. 

It doesn’t happen when I’m talking to myself (Yeah, I do that), or when I’m speaking in front of a crowd (Have hosted school events to know that public doesn’t scare me) or when…no, I’m done. Those two are the only situations when I’m able to speak without irritating everyone, including myself. I stammer while talking to my friends, my family…everyone. It’s not like any one person scares me. It’s the idea of making a conversation, and then ending up making a fool out of myself that scares me. So, I avoid speaking at all, as much as I can. I read, I write and I avoid actually speaking. Because after being made fun of, I don’t think I want to relive those moments, ever.

Seriously, is every defect known to man somehow stuffed into me?