I am equally fussy about what I put on my body as what I put in my body. The skin is the largest absorbent organ we have and yes, I am one of those people who doesn’t wear deodorant (ask my friends who complain how ripe  I am on a hot day). If you’ve watched read more

When I was 13, freedom meant a pair of very short jeans shorts. Though both fortunately and unfortunately, my father didn’t agree with me. He told me that no self-respecting girl would wear something like that and that he didn’t care if all my friends were wearing them, because no read more

My body is my body when I wake up with bed-head. I walk down the street and people stare. Diagnose me with illnesses; assuming I’m going to die because of my body. Men hassle me for my number and comment on my ass. My body is no longer my body. People give me dirty looks read more

Like many women, I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with my hair. It is too thick, too unruly and even manages to amaze hairdressers with its abundance. Recently I read an article about Harry Potter star Emma Watson. Following the end of the Potter film franchise, Watson famously cut her read more

As a young girl, I spent most of my childhood fascinated by my body, stunned that it could turn scrapes into scabs, run up hills and chase boys around the playground. But then puberty happened and the body that was once my friend, became an unknown enemy of sorts. I matured early, which meant for read more

My thighs are too big.  Not fat, but too muscular.  I look like a runner, not a ballet dancer.  My rib cage is too wide.  No matter how thin I get, the circumference of my ribs is still too big, and I can’t change that.  My legs are too short.  My torso is too long.  read more