What’s Cooking, Good Lookin’? A Complicated Answer.

Earlier this week, a student of mine came up to me and asked,

“Miss, give beauty tips!” And for once, I was tongue-tied.

Usually, I have a bunch of responses ready, desperate attempts at being witty that are actually just incredibly lame. But this time, nothing felt appropriate. In the split second I had, a few options flashed through my mind:

• Let me educate you about how the cosmetic industry is propagandist and trying to mooch off your wealth, because beauty is now subject to capitalism.
• Oh child, invest thousands of rupees, because in today’s world, skincare is an investment.
• Have you tried walking on a treadmill at a steep incline of 15 for 30 minutes straight? There is no better moisturiser than fresh, fresh sweat.
• Ask GPT about being in a caloric deficit.
• If you hate yourself enough, you’ll go to any unfathomable extent to feel good about your reflection for two minutes.

…which, of course, would have been wildly inappropriate.

So I played it safe. I said the most vanilla, but also the truest tip there is: “Drink water.” :)

I was met with what I’m pretty sure was my 27th eye roll that week. Teens.

“But miss, I do drink water.” Fair. She didn’t look particularly dehydrated. But was she expecting me to explain how I sometimes disguise self-disdain as self-care, just to meet the standard of “acceptable”? Over what… Bournvita? Do kids even drink Bournvita anymore? If not, they should. Because why do they want beauty tips?

Anyway.

Talking to pre-teens these days could give anyone weak knees. So I tried to level up. If not water, then something… meaningful.

“Good thoughts.”

“Er…”

“Well, I mean, if you have good thoughts and intentions, and you’re nice to people, that kindness will radiate in your appearance.”

“…”
“…”
“Sure, great! Thanks.”

Never have crickets chirped more merrily after a regrettable conversation.

I mean, I wasn’t wrong. But why was I nervous?

Perhaps because, in my head, there was a trifecta of Tanishas, juggling to be correct.

• The adult who knows better, capitalism, unrealistic standards, all of that. 
• The performer who wants to say the “right” thing to a student.
• And the quieter, more private part that’s like… okay, but I am also in this system, aren’t I?

Also, haha, I am the worst person to seek beauty advice from. And please, no, this is not me standing in front of you dewy-eyed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, waiting for you to say I’m pretty so I can blush and go, “Omg noooo, staaaahp.” I just won’t take your compliment. In fact, if you insist, I will consider it a personal offence and carry that grudge with unnecessary commitment. Because here’s the thing. Commenting on appearance is the easiest thing to do. Lazy, actually. My skin, my weight, my height, my hair… they’re all part of a vessel carrying my being. If you must admire something, borrow a leaf from Mr. Darcy and admire the liveliness of the mind. (eyebrow jiggle)

This has not come easy to me, though. I am no monk sitting on top of a mountain, free from worldly desires. I am as morally conflicted as they come. I too have sat in front of the mirror, counting flaws. Put Fair & Lovely on acne marks, hoping they would disappear. Skipped lunch. Took the longer route home just to walk it off. Avoided sweets. Avoided rice. Avoided clothes that made me feel like I was spilling over. Avoided taking pictures. Avoided people who I thought were looking at me and seeing “too much.” It’s been more than a decade since I’ve felt truly comfortable in my skin. I wouldn’t reject your compliment because I’m above it. Somewhere, I just wouldn’t believe it. 

But I am trying. I am trying to work out, not to fit into a size, but to feel stronger. To dress up, because a pair of jhumkas or a matching dupatta gives me quiet confidence. To smile more, because I can no longer limit my happiness to the angle of my crooked teeth. I am trying.

And after all this, this unexpected detour into what sounds like half a memoir, this was never about me. Shocking, I know. That girl didn’t come to me because she saw a portrait titled The Ethereal Beauty of Tanisha hanging in the Palace of Versailles and thought, “yes, that’s the blueprint.” It was about her. About something she wanted. And truth be told, I didn’t have it. I don’t think anyone can give it to her. She has to build it herself.

There was so much I wanted to tell her. This whole coming-of-age, teen-movie monologue that sat right there at the tip of my tongue- 

“Laugh wildly, every chance you get. Celebrate small victories. Wear what you like if it makes you feel like yourself. Experiment with haircuts. Eat the carbs. Please. Not eating them is the real regret. Your “ugliest” pictures will be your most memorable ones. And the people who love you will love you in every shape and size you come in. It sucks that we don’t have better role models. That we don’t see enough women with thick thighs, soft arms, real bodies. That imperfections are edited out before we even get a chance to make peace with them. Confidence doesn’t come from fixing yourself. It comes from living. Mistakes, heartbreaks, awkwardness, all of it. Because one day, you don’t want to look back and think, “That was a good day… I just wish I didn’t hate myself so much.” So look past it. The filters, the edits, the likes, the comments. Even the women on the Victoria’s Secret ramp, because their “secret” might break your heart. And while you’re figuring it all out, I hope you’re kind to yourself.”

I’d have said this to her.

I’d have wanted someone to say this to me.

Hmmm... I just wonder… when she’s on the other side of this conversation, which I’m sure she will be, will she smile and stick to water too? Or will she have found the words I’m still learning.

PS: This painting which was once upon a time on a wall in Lokhandwala's lost backroad, always reminds me of the silent battle women have with their own bodies. How unwelcome they feel. And how it must be honoured and thanked for all that it does, go through, and carry. My post does not even scratch the surface of my thoughts on body image and acceptance, but there's always another time. However, for now this one will stay with you and me.