It is clear blue skies, open windows, May in mid-March type of a day, there is air, there definitely is air because what are we breathing but then there is the wind that is blowing and it is not cool, in fact, it is the sort you want to shut out of your homes. The pages of my notebook are beating against each other, the fan that needs oiling can’t stop creaking, the bossa nova music that’s playing on the laptop gets blurred into the sound of the running tap water as I brace myself to do a week worth of dirty dishes.

Dishwashing and a meditation on thoughts were syncretic activities to me, I gave thought to the monotony of housework that was bete noire to me, I mulled over the Savoir Vivre that has been laid out which is supposed to outwardly expound the essence of a woman. I pondered on everything from the diabolic “beauty standard” that is fundamentally a euphemism for constraining our movement and allowing us to be defined by the socially constructed image of the feminine ideal of society which ultimately lays the reigns of our lives in somebody else’s hands, to what went wrong for a woman, who sought her solace in music, poetry, theatre and Urdu, what turn of events have caused her life to spiral down, like this.

I had often noticed women in six-inch red strappy heels, looking out of place and inappropriately dressed for an occasion and yet I could not get myself to blame them for their vanity and their fixation on looks. The lives of women have this element of Sisyphean absurdity attached to it, enough for her to go maverick, we are going around in cycles all the time, cycles that occurred between washing dishes and the monotony of those that came monthly.

The media has been feeding our subconscious minds images of what natural beauty should look like, it has narrowed the usage of the term so much that these days, it’s only when you’ve certain features that you can be called naturally beautiful and the term certainly doesn’t include someone who has straight brows, mono-lids, olive skin, droopy almond-shaped eyes and a crooked nose.
Why shall I appreciate something that did not take any effort at all? That somebody has no control over? I don’t see a reason for admiring natural beauty because It is something as simple as what we are born with or not born with. I like to put it in very simple words- some people are born with looks, others are born with talent. Now, I am a makeup girl, I wield my magic wands to create art but skincare is a pain so I don’t concern myself too much with it. My problem is that women go to the extent of using these skin care products to achieve this ‘’natural’’ image of beauty seen in pop culture.

I’m not surprised by the fact that only four percent women in the world are happy with the way they look in a society that’s profiting from our self-doubt and making a huge business out of it. Women’s skincare is a huge industry and they’re selling you their products making you believe that it’s going to make you ‘’naturally beautiful’’ by making you believe that you’re not beautiful, you’re not enough just as you are if you do not fit into their narrow idealistic beauty standards.

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