An Imperfect Me
"Perfection is impossible, just strive to do your best."-Angela Watson
" You are not a perfect daughter." said my parents.
My heart broke on hearing that. I was trying to contemplate what it meant. I was clueless so I walked to them and asked, "Am I not a good daughter?"
"You are a good daughter but not a perfect one. Look at your sister. She can sing and dance. She comes first in school. She excels in everything she does." Replied my mother scoffing.
Before I could talk, "You neither excel in academics nor do you excel in extracurricular activities. All you do is lazing around all-day burying yourself inside those novels and scribbling on the paper." She continued in a mocking voice.
I lowered my gaze and left the place without speaking a word.
My sister was indeed beautiful and charming and was treated no less than a princess. She garnered all the attention and was the centre of attraction. I enjoyed seeing her happy and I adored her. I always thought of my sister as my best friend.
Once when I was in my late teens, my sister was all decked up to attend a party. "Hey sis, Can I accompany you?" I pleaded.
She looked at me with scorn and said, "Hey there is no place for a bookworm like you at the party. That is the place we chill and enjoy ourselves. It is not a venue for an essay writing competition."
I stood there aghast falling short of words."Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror? You look like a country bumpkin. " she continued in a sarcastic tone.
I was shattered losing all my confidence. I withdrew myself from society and entered a shell. I found solace in books. I was starting at the paper sitting in a dim-lit corner of my room clicking a pen. I penned all my emotions on the paper in the form of poetry. Pen and paper are sure a deadly combination. I felt relieved.
Reading and writing came to my rescue. During this phase when I was engulfed in loneliness I fell prey to junk. I overate the result if which I gained oodles of weight. I never donned a perfect hourglass figure but I got too flabby.
My so-called friends made fun of me saying by calling me names. While I walked on the college campus I could hear people tittle-tattle. I heard them say, "Walk carefully. If you fall the flooring will be damaged. "As a result of my imperfect body and geeky demeanour, I never had any friends. I cursed myself for not being stylish and beautiful. I detested myself.
After a year on a prom night, I met a guy. Upon interaction, it came to my knowledge that he studied in the same college was three years senior to me. He looked dapper in a black suit. He was that kind of handsome that got into my bones. He was handsome from the depth of his eyes to the gentle expressions of his voice. I was attracted to him. We became friends. I was elated at the fact that for the first time in my life I had a friend to whom I can talk and share my emotions.
On the last day of our college, I mustered the courage walked to him and proposed.
" Hey, you misunderstood me. You a good friend of mine but I never thought about you otherwise. You can never be a perfect life partner to me." he said smirking.
His answer came like a jolt to me. Like always I tried taking it in my stride and walked away.
At home, my parents began looking for a prospective groom. I gave in against my will.
"She is not a perfect marriage material." This is what heard from all corners.
"Lose those extra pounds, only then you will get married. Don't make us hang our head in shame." I heard my mother yell.
I was caught in emotional turmoil. I felt my life was painful. The pain which only I could feel. I decided to end my life. I left my home and began walking swiftly. Then I came across an advertisement on the hoarding that had caught my attention.
It was a self-help session by a renowned psychologist. I entered the auditorium and heard him speak.
His words did the work of a soothing ointment to my wounds. After three hours of a power-packed pep talk, I left the auditorium energised and filled with optimism. I shunned the idea of ending my life.
I reached home and walked straight into my room. I searched for the first poem I had written three years ago. I improvised it and mailed it to a local newspaper. To my surprise, it got published. I began writing. Reading and writing which seemed a mundane task to many filled me with joy.
I kept reading and writing. Then it occurred to me that I can compile my experiences like a story and publish it.
I worked hard for one year and after many brainstorming sessions, I completed writing my book. I contacted several publishers only to be rejected. With grit and perseverance, I never stopped trying. Now after two years I'm standing here in front of you celebrating the success of my book "An Imperfect Me"
Other than the fact that I have achieved my target nothing in my life has changed. My parents still do not consider me perfect. Nor does my sister feel proud of me. I do not have any friends. I do not have that hourglass figure. I'm still standing alone. The difference is I have changed. I have begun to embrace my flaws and imperfections. I now indulge in self-love.
As quoted by Kim Collins-Strive for continuous improvement, instead of perfection. This is what I follow.
I am perfect with all my imperfections. So are you. Live life on your terms without waiting for validation." saying so Disha walked down the podium.
"If my talk and my writings help another Disha like me I will consider myself successful." She thought as she posed for the paparazzi with her book.
I tried weaving a fictional story through which I could communicate my opinion on the blog prompt I Am Perfect. Thank you for reading this blog of mine.If you liked reading hit the live icon and give your valuable feedback in the comments section.