Dear female readers,
I know the world is tough on us, women. And I know most of us have given in. I know, I know about the thin waist, sharp nose, big eyes, big lips, hourglass figure, and a thigh gap. I know about the attempts we put in to fit in. I know how we think we don’t deserve love unless we fit in the standards. I know how it feels when you don’t fit in the cool crowd. And I know it hurts. Because we have been silently taught that we have to, we just have to fit in the standards, no matter how ridiculous they are.
I also happen to know how makeup has become a must for some of us to hide freckles and pimples. I know how some of us are punishing ourselves with excessive exercise to see a lesser number on the scale. I know how some of us have hidden old jeans in the back of our cupboards waiting for the day we fit back in them. I know how we have clothes piled up in a corner to be worn on the day we feel confident enough.
But I want you to go back to your 5-year-old self and ask her what’s important. She’ll tell you that putting paper boats in puddles is important. She’ll tell you that making those bad boys cry is important. She’ll tell you that wearing warm socks is important. She’ll tell you taking care of your toys is important. She’ll tell you that drinking milk is important. She’ll tell you that brushing teeth twice is important. She’ll tell you so much. And she would be smiling. She would be cute, innocent and perfect. Maybe, she’ll whisper in your ear that growing up is not important because adults are so weird, duh! And she will giggle freely. And I want you to listen to her because she is right.
Maybe your eyes aren’t the blue sea that poets talk about. Maybe they are dark brown, like coffee, always sparkling with curiosity. Maybe your lips aren’t rosy. Maybe they are dry and deep red. Maybe you have the cute habit of biting your lips. Maybe your nose isn’t sharp. Maybe your face has freckles on it, like small stars waiting to be connected as a constellation. Maybe you have pimples, showing that you are growing up. Maybe you don’t have a thigh gap, but your legs have taken you places and helped you walk away from toxic people.
But then again, would your 5-year-old self-care about blue eyes, rosy lips, sharp nose, freckles, and thigh gap? She will care more about how dirty you get while trying to save the bird caught in wires. She will care more about how hard you work for the dream you have. She will care more about how you laugh at yourself when you fall down. She will care more about what clothes you’ll wear the next day. And maybe she’ll care more about whether or not you wear pink on Wednesdays because that is a rule, okay?
So, if your 5-year-old you, allows you to be yourself then who cares about the world, right? The world can go away. Who cares? Not me. Not your 5-year-old self. Not you.
Your 5-year-old self would tell you to secretly use your mother’s lipstick because makeup is fun. She will tell you that counting the number of cookies you eat is more important than counting calories. She will tell you to let your cute dog loose and run after it because it is exhilarating. She will tell you to go to the gym because it sounds amusing. She will tell you to eat those candies because they are so sweet. She will tell you to kick that jerk boyfriend of yours. She will tell you to live like a princess ‘cause you are one. She will tell you that you are enough. And you must believe her because she is right. You’re enough, a thousand times enough. You don’t have to stand yourself being this weak. You can fight your way out of this. You can slap the world and its stupid standards. You can be you. Because your 5-year-old thinks you are enough, she thinks you are too much actually. She thinks so highly of you. Don’t disappoint her, please? Okay?