Brown irises dressed of villains of grey

Winter is grey, the dark dull clouds look like rotten snow in the skies. They look dark like a villain wearing a deep and dangerous blue. Dark enough to hide the stars at night covering all 50 shades of a black hue.
She appeared dressed in all white and filled my mind to the brim. She uttered waves into the air and red liquids gushed my chest within. Our eyes met and the world twirled 360 like a little girl showing her flowing dress, the atmosphere was synonymous to a madman’s unrest. A pretty stranger made me fall in love with her, with half tones that delight, her dripping brown irises played an old opera tune.
Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque 🕌

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Until the peacock leads her in

Where the peacock paints the green into the gardens with her crown jewels of blue,
She stayed there longer to watch the plumage of hues.
A canvas full of colours that are very loud,
Is this is what makes you so proud?

Funny how you cannot see your own beauty in the colours that are true,
Instead you see them in ultraviolet, not your royal blue!
She can clearly see, she had eyes,
Strutting conspicuously, it walked away showing off it’s prize.
It thrived where others merely survived, and never ceased to leave them mystified.

She felt like a splash of brown and grey in a room full of vibrant peacocks,
Never realised how time flies with the ticking of the clocks.
For even though she couldn’t fly, at least she knew she had tried.

The Pitfalls of Dating, HookUps, Relationships and Love

I know that it is difficult to navigate the pitfalls of hook-up culture. It feels like this exciting world of low consequence — physical relationships have it out for us. We’re damned if we do, and damned if we don’t.

I want to never be committed to one place, one routine. I want to wake up with different sunrises and say goodnight to different moons. I want to find the magic, the mystery, the beauty in every difference. It is our enemy and our friend. It is the thing that allows us to bring a guy home, and not talk about it the next morning. But, it’s also the thing that makes us not want to look this person in the eyes the next day when we see him. And this is not from fear of judgment from others, it is from fear of connecting.

It’s the thing that makes us terrified of the word dating, and scoff at the concept of relationships.

We overthink it all. The texts, the glances, the time we spend with someone is all carefully calculated using some algorithm that figures out just the right amount of interest to show. God forbid we show too much interest, it’s akin to a death sentence for the casual nature of “hanging out.” And it is never a “date,” but always “hanging out.”

Well girls, I too, am guilty of this. I am scared of commitment. I am scared of being let down by the realities of a relationship, and the preconceived notions I have of it all being proven untrue. I have an idyllic fantasy of dating, one that tells me I should be head over heels for a person before making any type of commitment.

But in reality, it is not as earth-shattering as it seems. I mean, yes, you are creating an attachment to this person, but it’s just a concept, a title. That is why the word boyfriend ends in “friend,” because first and foremost, he is just your friend. Many of us share these same frustrations, and most of us just accept them at face value. We think that it just has to be the way that it is. Well, maybe we should stop shying away from commitment, especially if it is something that you find yourself craving. Maybe we need to give it a shot.

Yes, I do realize that dating is not a reality for everyone, given jobs, hobbies, interests and all of the rest. But if you can, and want to, you should do it. If you meet someone that you relate to in a romantic sense, and the opportunity is there, you should take it.

Maybe all of us should dive headfirst into feeling for others, even considering the risk of being hurt that it poses to us. Because at the core of vulnerability for another human being is potential. Potential for feelings and connections that would otherwise never have been found. And that’s what our dating years are centered around: potential. You will be physically and spiritually away from me. But I will always be wishing you the best. I will always have your back no matter what, always. I will always be a listener for your rants. I will always be the shoulder for you to lean on. I will always be your punching bag.

I will always care for you. I will always be here, no doubts.

I would be lying if I say that I’m going to move on, that I will let go. Because I search for hope in every single situation I’m in. I search for the door in a pitch black room blindfolded. I search for a light in the darkest location in the darkest hours.

You made me fall heads over heels for you, when I fall for someone, I fall really hard and I don’t give up on that person, I will never give up on you. My love for you will never change, it will only grow. Hope. That’s what I have. I never give up on anybody. Miracles happen every day. Fight for the people you cherish and believe in. Believe in second chances.

Fat Shaming…. a new trend catching up in a Society I detest

After my last post on the fat shaming world I encounter on a daily basis; I was written to to make aware of a new trending topic which apparently affects a larger number of women who stand on the “greener pastures” – the skinny kind. I am no judge of who is better than whom, but yes I want to point out some of the observations I have: Skinny Shaming Is Actually Just A New Way Of Fat Shaming.

I am generally a person who reads over the points people argue on the internet with a sort of neutral interest and mild amusement. But the recent surge in articles that defend skinny women against the evil fatties who have apparently become powerful enough to shame the skinnies into being self-conscious about their tiny frames bothers me to no end.

Let me preface this for you.  I am a big girl. I am fine with this. It took me a very, very long time to be fine with this, but I am reasonably confident in my attractiveness (no thanks at all to the mother, aunties, media, ex-boyfriends, girlfriends, or any outside force that has even laid an eye on me). A lot of work went into being able to see myself as beautiful, and I’m proud to feel that way. If you are skinny, I probably think you are beautiful, too.

But here is what I know:

The world is nicer to skinny people.  This is 100 percent true. I can say this because I have been much skinnier in the past than I am now, and I enjoyed the benefits.  People, strangers on the street, are generally nicer, more willing to meet you and have a conversation, more willing to listen to you and respect your opinion.  Clothes are designed with skinny bodies in mind. No one judges a skinny person for ordering a cheeseburger instead of a salad. You are not judged as a lazy glutton immediately upon stepping outside. You fit the mold. It is, undeniably, much easier for you to exist. Still doubting this claim?  Imagine you had the power to choose right now to immediately become either a size 0 or a size 18. You know in your heart of hearts that being a 0 is more appealing.

And that is okay! But claiming that you have been shamed for being “too skinny” and playing a victim in a world that already favors you paints larger people as bitter and jealous. It is not okay to hate people based on the fact that they fit into a significantly smaller or larger pant size than you. Not at all. But it is also not okay to make the already alienated feel as though they are to blame for your poor body image.

Now the fatties have to feel bad for being fat (because make no mistake: fat shaming has definitely not gone away) AND for making skinny people feel bad about being skinny? Forgive me if my sympathy is a bit lacking.

If you are a skinny woman, you are a skinny woman. Good for you, and shame on the people who tell you that is a bad thing, or that the number on your scale somehow makes you less of a woman. But us fatties have been doing that for a really long time. It’s exhausting. And now that a few of us are being a little more vocal about the fact that we’re okay with our bodies, and that (surprise!) some people manage to love us anyway, we’re met with only greater and more ignorant adversity.

I would never tell a person he or she was too skinny, nor would I claim a woman is less of a woman because of her weight – high or low.  IF I knew a person who was actually dangerously thin and I thought that my contribution would help, I MIGHT say something. Maybe.

But mostly I feel like other people’s bodies are none of my business. I am okay with my body, even though it is larger than society generally approves of. I am adamantly opposed to hating people based on their bodies, no matter the size.  The fact of the matter is that any insecurities you might have about your body don’t exist because you’re over- or underweight. Insecurities about our bodies arise from this tricky little predicament called “being human,” and using other people’s flaws to justify our own definitely isn’t helping. But taking pride in my curves is not meant to devalue your body in any way. Blaming people like me for issues you have with your body definitely devalues mine, and adds the destruction of the collective self-esteem of skinny women to the pile of things we’re blaming on the fatties. This only breeds more body issues and brings us even further away from creating a healthy way of looking at body image in the future. Please don’t use your body to insult my body. I promise to give you the same courtesy. We’ve all been through enough.

As if the world is not nice enough already to you skinnies, you want to steal our thunder even on this and say how we – us fatties make you look bad? Seriously???? Do you want me to lend you a shoulder to cry on about how sad your life is that you are skinny? You take all the beautiful looking dresses, all the most charming men, the looks that come to you even when you are not trying AND NOW YOU EVEN WANT THIS TITLE? Like really?

I can’t stress this point enough; but HELLO!! I am not going to be sorry for you. Really? You want to beat me? Eat… You don’t want to eat? DON’T! But DO NOT TELL ME THAT YOU ARE THE VICTIM OF THIS FLESHY CRAVING WORLD. Cause you are not.

I live my life to the fullest, whether its a plateful of food or chocolate indulgences, and I don’t want to be guilty about it. And if I’m guilty, I will guilty-eat the frigging 12 pieces KFC bucket chicken for a family of 8 and you will not say a word. And you skinny little chic, Eat a salad or something….

Yes I know, I start the writing very maturely and then turn violent… Hmppphhh blame the frustration of not being able to express freely. Now where is that chicken?

Its the end of the world… I’m F.A.T.!!!

Is ‘fat’ really the worst thing a human being can be? Is ‘fat’ worse than ‘vindictive’, ‘jealous’, ‘shallow’, ‘vain’, ‘boring’ or ‘cruel’?

– J.K. Rowling

We live in a country and culture obsessed with the physical appearance. A country where fairness creams sell like hot cakes in different brands, sizes and shade cards. Like its so normal to believe that since my skin has more melanin and absorbs the sun better than the fair skinned thin girl, I am not normal.
I’m sorry I am dark. And Fat, to add to it.
We are more focused on how we appear to be than how we really are; we focus on cultivating a life that other people perceive to be great as opposed to one that genuinely feels that way. It’s all an issue of being in a society that is caught up in the physicality of things, not the soul of them, and maybe the way we regard our bodies is the final frontier.
“Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder” and “Beauty is skin deep”. Read and understood. Never really given thought of action in our hypocritical world. I think we can all agree that superficial appearances matter very little, whether you’re talking about bodies, situations, relationships, or anything else. Although we know this in theory, actually applying it is difficult because our focus is largely – if not entirely – on our own and each other’s physical components. It’s hard to not feel like the look of our body is vastly more important than the quality of our character. It’s hard to feel like physical appearance doesn’t take precedence when it’s our chief focus.
As if being dark skinned was bad enough, I had to be a foodie and the one whose body type is largely built and broad shouldered. Perfect! I am now the one who is most spoken and looked at by all the kitty party aunties who are so bored with their life, they want to see how miserable and pathetic they can make anyone who catches their muse. Ta-Da… I’m right here!
So I love the chocolate cake, I love my mother’s cooking and splurge and indulge in everything I eat. I work hard all day and love to kick back with some ice cream or butter chicken with 4 chapatis. Yes 4! The evil 4.
I am not defending or justifying my reasoning for being fat or coming in a large package, yes I understand I would love good in that chiffon dress where my stomach doesn’t jut out. Yes, I know I must take care of my body and so on and so forth. All I want you to do is STOP JUDGING ME based on my body size.
And I’m fat and dark so the marriage is doubtful. Oh I need 10 other blogs to write my frustration on that logic. So, marriage harassment is not covered here. Period.
I am not going to eat all your food. I am not going to follow the diet you told me and drink maple syrup 2 times a day. I am not going to step on your foot and cause a fracture. I am not going to die of a heart disease. I am a grown women who obsesses about my appearance too. So, I will eat when I want to and starve when I want to. Just stop telling girls and women like me to be thin or fat.
If I lose weight, you will say, Oh my god… why have you lost weight. You need to eat some food. Doesn’t your mother feed you?
If I put on some weight, you will say, Oh dear… I think you need to control your food intake. Exercise more, come with me for walking, swimming, jogging. Mummy has spoilt you by giving you too much love.(Read: Mother cooks, Child eats=Love). She is fat but has a beautiful face. DON’T say that. It annoys me.
Why Lady Why? Your own mother posed her insecurities on you and you in turn transfer it to all the other women you find… Or worse, on your own daughter. How many mothers can confidently tell their daughters, “I look Beautiful today!” without the but? Everyone speaks in a tone which is followed by the But. But why?

Isn’t it a more courageous to stand out and be ambitious, smart, level-headed, generous, kind, independent, interesting, idealistic, opinionated, charming, original, funny – a thousand things, before ‘thin’ or ‘fair’?

I’ve got two sisters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed fair skinned world, and it worries me, because I don’t want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; And frankly, I’d rather they didn’t give a flying monkey’s shit whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier thighs than they do. Even if she did, that did not make her ugly. It made her courageous cause she can walk the same speed that you do, carry off the same skirt that you have and show off the new stocking she bought from Zara or Vera Moda… Just in a different size.
Everyone has their insecurities. So do I, don’t point them out to me, just like I don’t to you. You wont like me telling you how small your boobs or ass look when you want a larger size.
That being said, little girls need to be taught that they are beautiful by character and poise, not by the size of their clothing. Life is difficult for women as it is with the whole periods, puberty, hormones, sexual advances, unwanted attention, pregnancy, babies and menopause; Why would you put that pressure on some one who wants to feel beautiful. Just smile and say, “yes baby… you are beautiful!”. You aren’t lying.
I will wear my scars, my stretch marked skin with thunder thighs; My lady lumps that have a bra size that sounds like a bus number, my big butt that Sir Mix Alot sings about. I wear it like I let it grow and be. Toned, Gym trained or saggy and bulky. Let my girls be Adeles, Hermiones, Aishwarya Rais and Kajols, rather than size zeroed Kareenas and Victorias.