Insecurities – the ones that you hide under the touch of your jeans, the tuck of your hair behind your ear, the suppressed smile.


How long has it been since you raised your arms and let the spring air brush through your bare underarms?


How long does it take for you to finally see your reflection?


What picture do you paint in your mind before you capture your physical being in a digital frame?


Does it camouflage? Probably not.


Have you ever felt the stretch marks on your thighs, the undulating map of your t-zone, and the protruding veins of your feet after a tiring day?


Not touched, felt.


Have you ever felt the hair on the back of your neck, arms & legs that you drug with the pain of hot wax?


Not touched, felt.


Only if you could strut in your insecurities just the way you dream of strutting in that evening gown you brought to reward yourself the day you part with your body fat.


Those magazines that feed you beauty, that inflames your insecurities, are they really glossy covers or is it your teary eyes?


That makeup kit that has a special ticket to all the places you travel, if only your bare skin could breathe in that luxury.


Are your insecurities the birthmarks that society gives you?


Or were you born with it?


~ Marisha Kashyap | Edited by Aashna Sharma


Image Source


Share With Friends
[easy-social-share buttons="facebook,twitter,google,more,reddit,stumbleupon,del,pocket,mail" morebutton="1" counters=0 message="yes"]

Leave A Comment

Your email address will not be published.