Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder?
I start my blogs with some lame joke or puns and call myself good humored. But because this blog is on a serious side of life so let me just get straight to the point, well, before I forget what I was going to type and go back to scrolling on instagram. As long as I can remember, and my memory is excellent at that (Iam too modest you see), ever since I was a child I always wished I was fair. Fair and beautiful were synonymous and I wished with all my heart that I achieved those adjectives. I don’t remember exactly when was the first time I felt that was but for years that feeling stuck with me. Growing up watching all the perfect gorgeous women with white washed faces and perfect body shapes made me wish a lot of things. Seeing a fair woman made me ashamed of my dusky skin. For a long time I called myself dark. Not really knowing the difference because for my mind all of it was the same. A reason to feel inferior. Elders talking about applying besan and orange face masks didn’t...