The Perfect Woman

Some nights you want to wear a sleek black dress of a Parisian brand which would compliment your curves. You want to wear your makeup and hair better than Rihanna or Taylor Swift. You want to be that girl who when walks into a room, every pair of eyes fill with astonishment. You want to own the party. You want to hold the glass right and sip so smoothly, that the candid pictures can’t go wrong. You want to dance like you’re being filmed for an upcoming blockbuster movie. It’s not your birthday, it’s one of those nights, you want to be the woman you always aspire to be. One of those nights, you want to be the classic version of yourself.

Then there are days when you want to be someone else, anyone else.

Somedays, you want to be that girl you once crossed paths with, on your way to the grocery store. Her hair loosely tied up in a messy bun. Her ripped jeans not pulling off her oversized shirt well. Her casual pair of flip-flops which are shouting out loud – ‘I got zero fucks to give’. Her jeans’ back pocket has a pack of cigarettes and she tries to light one up held between her lips while quickly walking past you. Her still hungover eyes, unwashed face and spilled mascara gave her little secret away.

Somedays, you want to be that girl who you saw in an early morning train on your way to work. Her dirty shoes needs washing since the beginning of time. When almost everyone is dressed formally in the rush hour, her dusty backpack will probably end up in a tent up in the mountains by the time they’re on their way back home. Her new pair of headphones are connected to a really old model of an iPhone. Her military pattern shorts and the tank top are perfectly aligned to her fine toned legs. Her upper body strength didn’t come from an expensive gym, but from the harshness of the wilderness.

Somedays, you don’t want to be a perfect daughter or sister or friend. You don’t want be the best of everything, so that one day your parents are filled with pride. You don’t want to compromise on that last piece of pie every time, so that one day your sibling would take your kindness for granted. You don’t want to listen to the same drama over and over again, so that one day your best-friend will think you’re too perfect to cry over a guy. In fact, you don’t want to be perfect in anything.

Somedays, you don’t want to be there for everyone in every moment. May be you want to sit in your personal space and eat a huge piece of chocolate cake, read a book or simply Netflix and chill!

Those days, you want to either rush to the grocery store, buy a cigarette and hope to see the hungover girl and ask for a lighter. Or you want to pack your bags and run away, wishing to find the girl you saw on the train. But you don’t do it, as much as you want it, you can’t do it because you’re too good to be bad.

You realise that you’re not a barrier breaker, in fact, you’re a bridge builder. You compromise your interests and make the best out of everything for everyone you care about. You know how to talk, walk, sit, eat and behave. There’s a reason why people look up to you. In your heart, you might be a mediocre woman who can’t take stand for herself or speak aloud. But you’re idealised in the society. You’re the definition of perfection for a reason. The reason YOU gave them!

Now when you go to the grocery store or in the train, your eyes try to find those almost imperfect girls. In your heart, you know that they moved on with their lives unlike you.

One day, sitting in the balcony of your warm apartment, sipping fine tea, you look down at the park bench. You see an almost 65-year old lady on that park bench, who’s wearing an old pair of glasses and writing in her small notebook. Her short grey hair are caught in the air and her wrinkled skin seems dry. Her pretty light-yellow dress is paired with an elite pair of brown leather sandals. For a brief moment, you feel that she’s your older version of a future which isn’t quite far away! It baffles you as the shiver runs down your spine. Now you can’t help but wonder about what she’s writing. Is she writing about the time when life was easier? Is she writing about the chances she didn’t take? Is she writing a poem or a tale of love? Or, is she simply writing down her the list of names for her next house party?

You wonder and wonder till you decide that you can’t have anymore of your questions unanswered. This old lady isn’t going to be one of those women who you were too shy to talk to. You get up and walk out of your apartment. You don’t bother to look at the mirror for the perfection of your hair or makeup. But with two cups of tea in your hands, breathing the fresh air of the trees around, you smile wider than the Sun which is slightly conspiring to set and you walk towards her. She looks up as your shadow fells on the page of her notebook, and which feels almost after yearsyou speak up.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

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One comment

  1. Excellent blog! I like it.
    it is well balanced between happy and sad thoughts.
    I somehow expected the old woman at the end to turn out to be the protagonists mother, or teacher, or aunt, … who has had all the dreams and experiences the girl was thinking of.

    Like

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