Late Birthday Post.
Travelling To 25th Lane
There were days when we grew hips and tended to our hair, mostly because we were cautious for our bodies, not for the rightful reasons but for the luxury of growing up, becoming a girl fully aware of the attraction we hold on boys. It was like melted wax, a light bubbling along the lines of teenage years, exuberance that soon run out. Because as we grew, realities began to set in. we worry for things like what we should eat and bother about eating too much oil that causes pimples. Somehow I feel strange when I birth any intruder on my face because I rarely invite them. It is safe and pleasing to say I have a pimple free life unlike others I know. I hardly get any and when I do, it appears like a marked dot in the middle of the ocean. It bothers me because I suddenly feel strange. I want to get it off. Somehow a stubborn one always persisted for as long as it pleases.
I wonder to myself, if you fuss so much about just one pimple that stands odd on your face. How would you cope if they came in batches or how do you expect others to feel? Frankly speaking, that should be none of my concern. I care about my body and as much as I do hope others should do so to, it really does not fall in my niche of concern. Maybe if we have some kind of mutual connection because when it comes to body matters, many dispositions are involved.