I think I was in 4th grade, when I was made fun of being a bit plump and how I was told “girls in the house were expected to be slender and petite”. I remember waking up early to burn calories by scoring baskets. I could no longer ask for extra cheese on my burgers.
About three years later, when blood stained on my skirt, I remember myself dashing off to the nearest washroom trying to remove those stains that made the guy behind to giggle. Amma told me to stay in for the week and offered me the corner of the hall.
I think I was 15 when my aunt ordered me to stop wearing guy shorts. I remember how I was given a dupatta and told, “you’re growing beta, dress appropriately”. I remember quitting sports that year.
I think I was in transit to college, when my cousin held my waist as he pulled me to tell that ‘I was a tease’. I remember staying awake the entire night trying to feel less dirtier than I already did.
I was in college, when a stranger pressed my butt, while speeding on a motorcycle in the dark lane parallel to mine and when I was told I should let a guy touch my body cause I liked him.
My uncle told me how beautiful I looked, when I cut down 15 kg of flab.
Amma told me that good girls stay put and learn to cook for their husbands.
My aunt told me that only sluts wore short body fitting clothes.
My cousin telling me to play along just for fun or that guy who said my body belonged to him.
I was told, often and by many, of what I ought to be doing with my body.
When will I have a say? .
.•/Stories women never tell/•