Inside
you is an Ugly Betty, an Elle Woods or a Desperate Housewife. A flawed woman,
an imperfect woman eager to make herself more perfect for someone else, to be
what someone else thinks of them, someone who is sometimes overwhelmed by the
things she doesn’t have but wants to live a happier life and feel more
complete. So often as a woman we live our life constantly battling what is
expected of us and what we expect of ourselves. But most of the times I have
learnt to appreciate the imperfectness that makes me a woman. There is
something raw, pure and sublime about accepting the flaws that make you who you
are. But its even more empowering to stop trying to be perfect; to stop
measuring yourself with the yardsticks of another woman’s beauty, body,
success, fame, money, popularity or peace. Being an imperfect woman is
living a full life, it is dipping your hands deep into the jar of life and
licking each emotion off, one finger at a time. Its tolerating the taste of
bitterness, savoring the flavor of peace, resisting the taste of jealousy,
teasing yourself with the smells of success, relishing the bursts of
selflessness, swallowing the seeds of fears, biting down the bits of
impatience.
I am an imperfect woman and I don’t always
handle myself with aplomb. I err, I cry, I laugh and I fight and I am happy
accepting that. Because its all these imperfections bundled together that makes
me, the unique me.
