Acceptance

Before I get cast away into a net of "asians who dissociate themselves with other asians", note that I know my own skin colour and that I do love my asian people.

But definitions of what I should look like and how I should behave, as an asian, confound me. The controlling image of fair and dainty asian girls put me off. It bothered me so greatly growing up that I had issues with my confidence and self-esteem. The residual effects of which I had much struggle with in the latter part of my adult life.

I would understand it better if such claims of importance were based on healthiness and a lifestyle that supported the great outdoors. But no, the society that I was born into was not gentle in telling me that I had to be stick thin, have light skin tone and symmetrical features to be of any consideration to anyone.

I have been told however that back in the ye olde rickshaw pulling days, the skin tone was taken to be a feature that distinguished the social classes. The darker skin tone was associated with farmers and blue-collar workers and was not highly looked upon. But somehow, this has transcended into today's world. One of which is [ironically] now a blue-collared world. Well, in my part of the world anyway.

It has taken me so long to love what I have. To use make-up to highlight the features of my face. To dress with colours. To put on clothes that embrace my figure. To love my arms. To love my skin. The same one that transforms into a beautiful colour of olive under the sun. I look down at my tummy and no longer feel that it hinders me from my future husband [where for art thou... insert balls of laughter here]. My legs, thick as they are, are beautiful. And positively cute.

I shall think of it as life's magnificent gift of a social filter. One that blocks out those with narrow mindsets and weighs/merits their association with others by the looks.

Here's to time.