I
knew it was my last chance to save what I had then. A last chance to save my
relationship from slipping away into oblivion. It had taken courage to dial her
number. It had taken contemplation of days. Numerous drafts of messages that
were written, edited and then deleted. Re-written and re-edited and when the
‘send’ button was finally pressed, I felt my breath being stuck in my windpipe
till I received the reply.
It
was a plea to meet. It was a plea to be able to at least put my point of view.
A plea that I would be devastated if he left at this point. And she was my only
messenger at that time. She was his best friend. Somebody he listened to. She
was privy to everything between us. The fights, the arguments and the
lovemaking too. I had felt violated in some way when I came to know that she
knew everything about us. One might be the closest friend, but what happens
between lovers should stay between lovers. But only I believed that, not him.
She
agreed to meet over a weekend at a popular fast food chain near her office. Entire
day, my stomach churned with nervousness and my heart paced like it was running
a marathon. I rehearsed the lines I would say to her in my head. I wanted to tell
her about the good, bad and mundane times we had shared. I wanted her to
convince him to not leave me at a time when the marriage was on the cards and
when I had moved mountains to convince my family.
I
reached on time and waited. I saw her walking towards me and something inside
me dreaded this meeting. But I was determined to take my chance. We went inside,
ordered the food and took our table.
We
started talking about work and other stuff munching on the French Fries. I
tried steering the conversation on the reason of our meeting. She probed what
had happened. I told her whatever I could in an urgency as if my life depended
on every sentence I uttered. But, my every argument for saving the relationship
was counter argued with narration of every fight we had. It pinched hard that
everything between us was already out there in front of a third person. My
mouth was turning bitter with the bitterness in her voice. I was already
declared a culprit. But like every alleged culprit I had to put my points
hoping it would be my saving grace.
‘You
know what I have been telling him since last three years to break up with you.
He never agreed then. When you are not compatible with someone, you should just
move on. What is the point of being unhappy and be in a relationship?’
she said dipping her burger in ketchup.
‘Three
years?’ her words stung my ears. But we had started having arguments just six
months back. How could she be convincing him to break up with me since three
years? The questions loomed large. The answers of which I wasn’t ready to
listen.
‘See’ she continued. ‘You have to be practical.
You can’t be with someone who isn’t compatible with you. Do you understand what
I am saying?’
I
didn’t. Her practical advice felt like acid on my skin. I continued staring at
her while she munched on her burger nonchalantly as if she were talking to
somebody who was asking her advice on where to buy reasonably priced groceries.
‘Have
you seen yourself in the mirror?’ I heard her.
‘Huh?’
I asked.
‘Have
you seen yourself in the mirror? Just look at yourself. You are overweight.
Much more than him. Don’t you think he has already been too kind in accepting
you this way? I mean he looks way better than you since he isn’t fat like you.’
she said.
I
stared.
‘I
know you both were in a relationship and all that. But we have to be practical.
I mean which guy would accept your weight while he is so fit. So I think you
should tone down. Not just physically but also as a woman. Accept whatever he
says. Do as he wants. He is the man after all. Plus he is accepting you with
the weight. No man would want to be with you if you are healthier than him.’
Her
words hung around me like stale air. I choked on them. She was another ‘woman’
I was talking to. An educated woman. An educated working woman.
And
there she was. Telling me that I didn’t deserve my relationship just because I
was overweight? That I was receiving some favour because the guy was fitter
than me? That it was absolutely okay to pull down a woman by another woman just
because she had more layers of fat around her than her man?
The
noise around me had suddenly increased. A child bawled on the adjacent table. Something
was nauseating me. I felt claustrophobic. Because there were too many people
around? Or was it something else? Maybe the thought? That the only parameter a
woman lays down for another woman for being in a relationship with somebody was
her weighing scale.
The
relationship eventually ended after I found that the real reason for the
misunderstanding was not me but his interest in somebody else. But it was too
late till then. Because somewhere deep inside, I blamed myself and the weight
for everything that happened. Because I was judged for the outer appearance
that I carried. Until I accepted myself for what I was. A person with stories
to narrate, a person with poetry inside, a person who was not just her appearance.
Did
you know that:
a.
69% of men agree that their judgement of women is based on their looks.
b. 64% of women agree that the judgments
passed on them have affected their ability to reach their true potential.
c. 70%of women agree that majority of
judgments on women are from family members or friends rather than strangers.
d. 72% of women agree that working women
face more judgments on their looks or their clothes than housewives.
“I’m
breaking stereotypes based on appearance by sharing my experience for the #IAmCapable activity
at BlogAdda in
association with Nihar Naturals.”
