Published in March 2015
(Disclaimer: This is by no means an indictment on my mother, or any other mother for that matter. I do not judge shoes that I haven’t worn yet, I absolutely admire your devotion. I simply share the things that I have observed. If this post offends you, I apologise in advance. Love)
She didn’t tell you that you too are Stardust. You are beautiful, a relic of some place that’s gradually being forgotten. You are beautiful, as is. And it’s okay to leave a little glitter everywhere you go. Not everyone should hold you.
She never taught you to love your body. So the Magazines taught you everything that was wrong with it. If only your nose was a little straighter, deep-set eyes are perfect, high cheek bones are more model-like, suck your stomach in, you need space between your thighs. So every time you saw something new, you would try to nip and tuck so you could fit just right, until you became a mash-up of something that you couldn’t quite put your finger to. And so when your first lover tells you “if only you weren’t an A-Cup, you would be perfect” you go home and strip in front of the mirror, and try to pull hard enough so you can at least fit a B-Cup. Till one day you learn that maybe it’s just about how they fit your body, and how your nipples stand in the cold.,
She didn’t tell you that there was more to life than going to school and getting a job and getting married. That maybe you could dream too, and make your life an exciting adventure. That you too could own anything and everything you dreamed off and create a life that you love. She didn’t teach you that you could write your own rules and that it was okay to be deviant. She didn’t tell you that whether or not you get wifed, you will still always be a trophy.
Your mother probably didn’t tell you that not all women were made to be domestic, and that maybe we too could be easy on our friends who were poor with cooking and house-keeping. That sometimes a man needed more than just someone to clean and cook for him and have his babies. She didn’t tell you that you were intelligent enough to listen to and advise him, that sometimes all he needs is to be held and loved. She didn’t tell your measure exceeds who you are at home.
She didn’t tell you that some men like to play with their food. That no matter how hard you tried to be perfect, and no matter how many garnishments you used, they just weren’t ready to eat. Or maybe they didn’t like the chef. And that’s okay. But she didn’t tell you that it was okay to walk away from love. Walking away from love didn’t mean you lost; you already won when you first loved. And when you left to find something new, you already set the stage for your next victory.
She didn’t tell you that you too could enjoy sex, as a woman. And that enjoying an orgasm shouldn’t make you feel guilty. That you could ask for what you want; doesn’t make you any less of a lady, just makes you a go-getter. She didn’t tell you that you shouldn’t be a passive participant in the things that could possibly give you pleasure. But you will get there, wait till you’re married.
She didn’t tell you that you are as much a lady when you forget to shave your legs as the Queen of England. That true grace comes from within and shines through, like a light that’s making dark places brighter. That perhaps other women are sisters, and not competition, and that maybe the man isn’t even the enemy in the end.