I don’t need to apply sunscreens before I go out; if I love sunshine, and getting tanned. I don’t give a damn if Sweety aunty rejects me for her charcoal black son, just because I’m fifty shades lighter than him, yet dark.
I don’t have to listen to everyone. Certainly not to the person whose grandson failed class 10 and he is sitting here today and telling me how sorry he is because I can’t get IIT Bombay.
I don’t have to answer everyone. Definitely not to this helium filled balloon advising me to join a gym, just because she thinks that guys these days don’t care whether you are the topper, and all they want is a sexy, fairly educated homemaker. I don’t have to answer her why I’m studying when her daughter is at the gym.
I don’t have to hear everything. I’ll certainly not hear this lady who walked in as a guest and is criticising my hardworking, strong and wise neighbour for not being a spendthrift. I can always ask her to shut-up. I can always refuse to listen to her nonsense.
I don’t need to wear Salwars and sarees or a bikini and crop tops, I don’t have to wear what someone wants me to wear. I’ll wear what makes me comfortable, because I don’t give a damn whether people find me elegant or sexy. All that matters is I am comfortable.
I don’t have to be a pro at cooking unless I’m dependent on Sharma Ji’s daughter for my daily meals.
I don’t have to touch a self proclaimed godman’s feet, even if dad insists, because I will not worship him if I think he is fake, if I think he is a con.
I don’t have to use lipgloss or cheek blush or eyeshadows. I find myself beautiful without any make up. It’s not my problem if Sristy thinks applying an eye shadow can make me look stunning. I have no interest to ‘stun’ her.
I don’t have to keep my hair long, if I can’t manage them. Nor do I have to get a pixie cut done just because my cousin thinks it’s cool. I don’t have to Color my hair pink, black, white or blue unless I want to.
I don’t have to attend a wedding just because I’m given an invitation card or skip it just because I was not given one. All that matters is whether my presence is celebrated.
I don’t have to wax my legs if I find it painful.
I don’t have to apply a concealer on my face, if I embrace the scars.
I don’t have to smile when I’m trying hard not to misbehave.
I absolutely don’t need a boyfriend if I am happy just the way I am. Nor do I have to break up if the girl calling herself my ‘bae’ thinks the guy is a player, if I still can trust him.
I don’t have to stop writing this or sharing it just because someone thinks it doesn’t make a great post.
I shun unreal standards of ideality. I don’t give a damn about ‘perfection’. All that matters to me is being honest to myself and real. I am who I choose to be. I choose to be me.