A young girl once went on hunger strike for three days, on the fourth day her mother came to visit her in her bedroom, “why don’t you want to eat my dear? please take your food while it’s still warm,” but the little girl refused, she poured the food away and covered her head with her blanket, “what has gotten into your stomach that you have refused to eat? Is there a problem you are not telling me?” asked her mother again, she insisted that her daughter take something or else she may cause serious injuries to herself, all was in vain.

“Mother, I want to be like Jenny Macdowry,” said the girl pointing at posters of the model on the wall of her room. “but starving yourself won’t make you look prettier,” said her mother, “you are the prettiest little girl in the world, don’t you like that?” said her mother, but the little hatchling would not change her mind, when she was sound asleep in the middle of the night, her mother slowly crept into her room took all the magazines of Jenny Macdowry including the posters on the wall, she put all of them in a shredder and burnt all the others,  the next morning the girl woke up to find her room had been swept clean of what she loved, she cried to her mother, “Mom! Where is Jenny Macdowry, you took her from my room, you took her, I know you did, why mum, why? How could you do this to….” as she stood yelling she fell on her knees, now very weak from days of starvation, they couldn’t hold her up in the air, she tried to lift herself from her kneeling position but she couldn’t, her brother was with her there at the living room helped her hand up and laid her carefully onto the sofa, a few minutes later her mother helped her sip the porridge she has been preparing  but she kept asking where her Macdowry was, “don’t worry you will see her soon,” whispered her mother to her ears, few days later she could approach other foods and even prepare a meal for herself, “I would never let anything that is associated with that Macdowry enter my house, her presence has left a terrible toll on my most beloved child.”

Mr & miss perfection

When men full of muscles come to hover around me, showing off their strength, then you have to tell them it’s the responsibility of every muscled man to cover the abominations of his body. We all got muscles, what makes you think yours are better than mine?

The man who removes his shirt to show others his muscles has an ill motive to entice women and insults other men who are not muscular as he is.

A few years ago I nearly killed myself in a gym trying to get muscular, I was about to bring harm to my body in an attempt to make it more appeasing to others

I don’t want to be an Apollo neither do I want to be a superman, my physical appearance is perfect, let no man look down upon me saying that I am a lesser being than he is, let no muscle man laugh at my bony biceps.

Don’t they know that there is no other person in the whole of the universe who looks exactly like me, there is no other being who shares my exact looks, thoughts and personality, and no two people are ever the same. What kind of appearance do they want you to have then?

name calling.

Those people who mock others for their physical appearances not only insult them but also insult the one who made them for poor handiwork, “You should have made them look better!” they say.

Do you certainly want all of us to look the same? For Jimmy to look like Jane, Jane looks like joseph while joseph looks like Josephine, and Josephine looks like Jared while Jared looks like Janet, while Janet looks like job then job looks like Joan….. You can’t expect all of us to look the same, do you?

I like myself the way I am, I have accepted the way I am a long time ago so nobody should try to mould me like a piece of clay into what they think I should look like, they are neither a perfectionist designers nor are they a creator.

Those words you said to me earlier, I still remember them very vividly, did you utter them because you love me or because you despised me? If you love me then you should try to comfort me, your ill remarks increase my suffering, I have suffered a lot, both inside and out, you do not know how much trouble I have been through, neither can they hear nor understand my thoughts, when I walk down that alley, all the eyes turn their glaze to stare at me it’s like they are saying, hey look it’s that silly old man again, with his sluggish walk.

This is what I was born with & appreciate it. If you don’t like it, then it’s your own problem.

Have you ever sculpted a marble stature, or cast a bronze figure, or chop a formless piece of wood into meaningful shape? You are certainly no designer.

Who decides what you should look like? who makes the final approval that you should be tall or short, male or female and all the variations that make one different from everyone else. These decisions were made by someone who surely loved me, it was certainly not you, and you have no right to downplay me or ill talk my physical appearance. It was done by somebody who loved me very much.