ILLUSION
“It's not a pretty image.”
I no longer care for validation, for the weighted labels that call me ugly. I am who I am unapologetically. I love every inch of my blessed body. There are times when reality knocks on my door and, in those days, I find my escape within the four walls of my room. Here is the only place I am never judged for not fitting the ‘idyllic’ definition of what beauty means.
There were moments, as I stood under the shower, I caught myself pondering over a lost memory. A memory where water was my sanctuary. And as I collect the water in my wrinkled palms, I see a reflection staring back at me. An unfamiliar expression has taken the place of the usual sneer. A reflection of euphoria, perhaps? This sense of elation rejuvenates my soul, liberating me from the clutches of my demons. The corset of deceptive beauty has loosen, and it's freeing my body.
As dawn breaks, I know that hell awaits me. But I know I will conquer this perdition - one shower at a time.
These words crack like a whip and dig into my skin. They form scars that splinter my self-esteem into pieces. And who might be the ones holding this bloodied whip? The very two people who promised to love me unconditionally - my parents. Familiar feelings of disappointment rise up my throat, suffocating me. Burying me under layers of clothing, they use the game of fashion to belittle me. Shame on my parents but shame on me for letting the idea of a ‘perfect’ body dictate the ownership of my soul.
Society makes us believe that true beauty rests on the inside. These words, they lack integrity. This very society has scrutinized me brutally for my flaws, leering at me with disgust. They have pitted the true definitions of beauty against me, and they have birthed demons with talons that strike at my flaws. They label me and it weighs heavy; boldly stating my inability to ever be enough. Sometimes, home proves as hellish as the world outside - cruel and unforgiving of my flaws. Indeed, reality is no sweet dream. But no more shall I feel ashamed.
Stripping away the labels, I wash off the insults with conviction. I never made anyone stop and stare for any good reason, but I no longer care. I look at myself, my body is mine to love, mine to cherish.
And here I stand. F*** the beauty standards for I am happy with the beauty I possess. I’d rather have my body belong to me than to live with the illusions of beauty. I will create my own rules in the game of fashion and not have it set out for me. In this war I wage with the world, I will weaponise the confidence I have gained from falling into depths of shallowness and rise to become the crowned victor. Golden ratios that once haunted me, no longer do, for I have reclaimed my body from the society and demons that once lived inside of me.
“It's not a pretty image.”
I no longer care for validation, for the weighted labels that call me ugly. I am who I am unapologetically. I love every inch of my blessed body. There are times when reality knocks on my door and, in those days, I find my escape within the four walls of my room. Here is the only place I am never judged for not fitting the ‘idyllic’ definition of what beauty means.
There were moments, as I stood under the shower, I caught myself pondering over a lost memory. A memory where water was my sanctuary. And as I collect the water in my wrinkled palms, I see a reflection staring back at me. An unfamiliar expression has taken the place of the usual sneer. A reflection of euphoria, perhaps? This sense of elation rejuvenates my soul, liberating me from the clutches of my demons. The corset of deceptive beauty has loosen, and it's freeing my body.
As dawn breaks, I know that hell awaits me. But I know I will conquer this perdition - one shower at a time.
"Pretty clothes are pretty on pretty people."
These words crack like a whip and dig into my skin. They form scars that splinter my self-esteem into pieces. And who might be the ones holding this bloodied whip? The very two people who promised to love me unconditionally - my parents. Familiar feelings of disappointment rise up my throat, suffocating me. Burying me under layers of clothing, they use the game of fashion to belittle me. Shame on my parents but shame on me for letting the idea of a ‘perfect’ body dictate the ownership of my soul.
Society makes us believe that true beauty rests on the inside. These words, they lack integrity. This very society has scrutinized me brutally for my flaws, leering at me with disgust. They have pitted the true definitions of beauty against me, and they have birthed demons with talons that strike at my flaws. They label me and it weighs heavy; boldly stating my inability to ever be enough. Sometimes, home proves as hellish as the world outside - cruel and unforgiving of my flaws. Indeed, reality is no sweet dream. But no more shall I feel ashamed.
Stripping away the labels, I wash off the insults with conviction. I never made anyone stop and stare for any good reason, but I no longer care. I look at myself, my body is mine to love, mine to cherish.
And here I stand. F*** the beauty standards for I am happy with the beauty I possess. I’d rather have my body belong to me than to live with the illusions of beauty. I will create my own rules in the game of fashion and not have it set out for me. In this war I wage with the world, I will weaponise the confidence I have gained from falling into depths of shallowness and rise to become the crowned victor. Golden ratios that once haunted me, no longer do, for I have reclaimed my body from the society and demons that once lived inside of me.
Art Directors: Kevin Tew & Yeo Tian Poh
Model: Wiley Wong (@dingweiwan9)
Photographer: aetll
Stylist: Yuan Kun
HMUA: Teo Jia Xuan & Sindhu D/O Manokaran
Set Designers: Denise Chong, Siti Mariam, Danessa Tong
Videography: Ethan Lai
Words: Mini Biswas
