About a year ago, Shefali asked me a question about motherhood: Knowing what I know, would I do it again? “Of course,” was my immediate answer. And then came her harder question: Why?
Here’s what you don’t see: while I was focussed on the colour and artistry of that silk scarf, my husband, feeling sprightly, tried to hop over a little wall around the pool. What you need to know is, that my husband is no longer spritely 😂!
He tripped, and got the TINIEST little scrape on his knee. Within seconds he was surrounded by resort workers. They came running in from all directions, carrying Band-Aids, towels, and even a stretcher. They dealt with his tiny little scrape with the concern and care normally reserved for survivors of natural disasters! One man gently held his head and stroked his hair, while another, cleaned and bandaged his “wound”. The whole time, my husband just looked sheepish.
Eventually, my daughters, and I noticed the hullabaloo and looked over, worried at first and then holding back laughter.
This is what travel is about. It’s not just the things you see in the pictures, it’s the things you can’t see in the pictures. It’s the memories, the mishaps, the laughter, the culture, the food …and, of course, the outfits that keep you mesmerized on a sunny day at the beach!
“Perfection” was a lot easier when I was younger.
First of all, I didn’t know enough about the world to see all of it through a realistic lens. My rose-coloured glasses kept everything that wasn’t “perfect” blurry and out of focus.
As I get older and realize that perfection is and always was a myth. Imperfection allows me to make mistakes which create space for me to grow. Imperfection allows me to embrace more of this world and of myself.
There’s something scary about perfection. Perfection begs to be maintained, and it is so easily offended by reality. And I think that’s part of the reason I am so very okay with wearing clothing that is slightly flawed. If a piece of clothing comes pre-“flawed“, I feel less pressure for me to try to maintain the illusion of perfection. Flaws mean that that piece of clothing is real, and I think I’m ready for “real” with all that entails. 💪🏾
If there is perfection, it is fleeting, and that’s what makes it special, not the fact that it can be maintained forever.
What happened? Well, I think it may have started with the shoes. I can’t wear heels anymore. My life is too busy for me to be tottering around, hoping that my feet can keep up with the rest of me.
]]>Some of you may remember during my most recent IG live that Shefali, Mira and their friends walked through the store on their way in from a photo shoot and out to enjoy Friday night life. They were dressed to the nines in incredible fashions that showed off their personal style and their young bodies.
I used to be those girls.
I had boundless energy. I wanted to go out and have fun and I was happy to show all the leg I have!
What happened? Well, I think it may have started with the shoes. I can’t wear heels anymore. My life is too busy for me to be tottering around, hoping that my feet can keep up with the rest of me.
And I’m running out of energy. It’s not boundless anymore so I have to choose how I use it. I can only allot so much of it to the act of starting my day dressed and ready to go.
And…I don’t dress for other people anymore. Not to say that I was out to impress, it’s just that I wanted to be part of what everyone else was doing in fashion, so I played along by keeping up with trends that made me more acceptable. So people would feel comfortable with what they saw, even if they weren’t comfortable with who I was.
So maybe the difference is that I am more comfortable with who I am. People can like what I wear or not and I am now old enough to realize that that what they think not a reflection of me, but of themselves. Only I can define myself.
I still love to look good. To put on a pair of earrings that make me feel special. To walk into a room know that I’m turning heads, but I think now that I’m older, I want to be turning heads because of my confidence in myself and because people can see that I know who I am. I finally don’t need to show other people what I think THEY want to see. (That one took a long time for me to figure out – why the heck do I think that I know what other people want to see?)
So many times I have heard that youth is wasted on the young. I’m happy not to be a youth anymore. I don’t want to still be figuring every single thing out about how I fit into the world and whether or not who I am is acceptable to other people. I don’t want to dress a certain way because I’m concerned about how other people will define me.
I’m proud to say I’m finally defining myself.
By Priya Mohan
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