Frizzy hair, imperfect skin, clear brown eyes-hidden behind my pink spectacles, nose that’s way too long, lips that are too thin, slouched shoulders, chest…Well, barely there and my not-so-flat stomach. Nothing that you might see in a perfect pretty girl is me, even my nails aren’t perfect.





I’m not the kind of girl who has a stream of guys lined up behind her and I’m not the kind of girl that other girls may look up to In my class, I have only guy friends which gives me only our forty minute break to hang out with the girls. Rest of my day goes by listening to four clearly unattractive boys giving me an evaluation of what girl they think is hot and I definitely don’t fit into that category. They don’t realize but I guess they’re inputs are what’s drilling insecurities into my head. The fact that they treat me as one of the guys is nice because I don’t feel left out but they forget that I’m actually a girl. Do I look like a guy? It was kind of weird at first, but now I’ve learnt to take their jokes with a pinch of salt.



I’m glad that I’m still the girl who can laugh with her entire mouth open, the girl who can dance the ‘frizz’ outta her head when she gets into it, the girl who can bluntly give her opinion on every matter, the girl who can tell her friends how to impress the girl they like, the girl who can sneeze soundlessly, with her whole body, the girl who gives spontaneous reactions and later laughs at her stupidity. I’m glad that I can laugh about everything under the sky. But mostly, I’m happy that despite everything, I have kept every trait that is essentially me.