LETTERS.

to all the insecure girls around the world

The idea of perfection can change as we grow older. As teenagers, we see perfection in everything but ourselves.

We compare ourselves to those "perfect" girls in the magazines, who are skinny, who don't have acne, and look completely flawless. So, naturally, we try and change ourselves to become "perfect."

If you think that sticking two fingers down your throat will change things, it won't. You are perfect the way you are, and trying to change yourself will only mean that you are letting all those companies and stores win - by making you think: "HERE! GO BUY! LOOK AT THIS GIRL! SHE HAS FLAWLESS SKIN! USE THIS! BE PERFECT! WE CAN HELP YOU!"

It's not true, it is what makes us different that makes us perfect.

When I was 11, I felt myself separated from the crowd my friends were in. They all seemed to have minimal body hair, while I, coming from Indian decent, had plenty of it. I did not, and I do not, have a very "out there" face.

When I stood between my friends, most of them had blond hair and blue eyes, while I have brown hair and black eyes. I was always chosen last, even by a boy. But that never mattered, and it still doesn't. Sure, it sucks sometimes - to not feel good enough.

I had a friend once, when I was 12, who's only goal in life was to be accepted and adored by boys, friends, and family. She wanted to be perfect. She was very pretty. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, and wore tons and tons of makeup, when she really didnt need to. It always seemed to surprise people when we told them we were friends.

Like: "really? You guys are friends? Wow. That's weird."

I remember, once, she had to go do some dry cleaning - and I tagged along. The lady there took one look at my friend and was like: "oh my god! You're so pretty!" And then looked at me with a judgemental look on her face, as she scanned me up and down. She then, looked extremely disgusted - and said nothing.

It hurt, it really did. I'm going to be completely honest. So I decided that I needed to change myself so that I could be up to my friend's standard.

Now, I had known her about 6 or 7 months by now and I had started wearing more makeup on my face. Extreme amounts of mascara, eyeliner, lipstick, blush, the whole lot. To be honest, I think I looked like a whore. I also changed the way I dressed - I would wear more dresses, rather than my usual skinny jeans and graphic tee. I wanted to be just like her. I wanted to get the attention she got, I wanted to feel pretty, I wanted a boyfriend, and I thought this was the solution.

So I had changed a lot - but this wasn't enough, at least not to her. So she began plucking my eyebrows, she made my auck my tummy in n I was in my bikini, and she even wanted to whiten my teeth (which I luckily, said 'no' to).

You know, I thought she was perfect. I really did. She didn't need to wear nerd glasses, or wear long sleeves because she was ashamed of her body hair.

But she wasn't perfect. She was an extremely flawed and broken girl who his underneath those 10 pounds of makeup.

She was alive, but she wasn't living. It was like she was a robot, following a line of other robots, who were following a line of other robots, and it goes on. Like I disease that won't stop spreading. Because they won't accept the fact that they aren't perfect, and that it's okay. And it doesn't mean they're not beautiful. Because if everyone is perfect, and if everyone is the same, there will come a moment, a day, when you'll look back and say:

"Maybe I did look okay."

So don't change yourself to be like anyone else, please, because when I did, it turned out to be one of the worst decisions of my life.