She looked into the mirror, she wasn’t pretty in the obvious sense, it needed an acquired taste to like her. If someone valued personality more than looks, she would be their type, a subtle way of putting down the fact that she didn’t look great.

She understood this at an early age, always discriminated during school plays where the prettiest girl would be the princess and she would be cast as one of the other characters; sometimes as the king’s subject and other times as a spider, though she did bag the part of playing a witch once and performed it with aplomb.

Why can’t princesses ever look normal? Why can’t they have pimples? Why can’t they be fat? Why are they always perfect? These questions bothered her during her childhood.

She felt the tentacles of jealousy grip over her when her crush was in love with her best friend, when someone less deserving was made the prefect just because she was pretty, when someone prettier was popular and had more friends, but she learnt to let it go, to comfort herself by repeating the fact that her looks were something she was born with and couldn’t change but one’s personality and thoughts could.

Since she knew it would be improbable that guys would be head over heels in love with her, she learnt how to be their best friend; she spent more time buying books rather than clothes and make up; more time volunteering in NGO’s than taking selfies. She stood up for people who were bullied because of how they look; her classmates teased her regarding this but it wouldn’t annoy here, she saw it as a means to help them defend themselves, being  good looking isn’t a prerogative for every person.

However, behind all this goodness lurked a monster, a monster that fed and grew on all the backtalk, who came out of the shadows of darkness when she was alone, who would despise every good looking girl, who dreamt of the miracles of cosmetic surgery, who hated princesses, who knew that once given a chance could shut people up, for good and long.

She knew of her monster but kept it inconspicuous, she could feel it tug at her heart when something upset her; it pleaded her to let it out, at times when she got fed up being good she would liberate it and look at how it made others uncomfortable, made them feel inferior.

When she met him for the first time, she and her monster let out a gasp, never had they met someone who was both attractive and altruistic. By a chance of fate they turned into lovers, she still remained incredulous, always cautious of what love had planned for her cause she and cupid weren’t the best of friends. He proved her insecurities wrong at every instance; he called her his princess and asked her hand for marriage.

Now that she was dressed in her wedding attire, she looked into the mirror and smiled; her monster smiled back at her and disappeared.

“Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder” now she knew what it meant.


One thought on “Beauty

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s