She is not her curves

Winter’s here since a while now, but today feels a bit different to her. Sitting down, she could feel the coldness of the floor despite her thick clothes. She was benumbed by the icy floor tiles but this was nothing compared to the pain she felt at that moment.

There, the first drop of her precious tears fell to the ground… and now she was crying her heart out as she acknowledged the truth that stung her every single time: she was loved just for her curves.
This was again another of her failed stories, the ones where she loved deeply and selflessly but instead of being loved back, she was used. This wasn’t her first heartbreak, yet the pain she felt was as agonizing as the previous ones. She was young, witty and beautiful but this changed nothing to the fact that men approached her only for her hourglass figure.

A lot of women would give anything to achieve such a body type, but to her, this seemed more like a curse than luck.

Men couldn’t see further beyond her well-balanced bust and hips and her delicately defined waist. They rather saw the boost she could bring to their male ego; they saw the pleasure she could procure them; they saw in her the trophy not everyone could lay hands on.
But she was not her curves. She was more than that.

She was first the woman who had a goal, a woman who was passionate about finding her life purpose. She was the woman who radiated love and warmth, someone who’d spread the happy bug to everyone she met.
She was the Little Miss Sunshine. She saw beauty even in the ugliness that surrounded her sometimes. She was the human who dusted off negativity with her positive vibes. She was the woman who always had the right words, even if things weren’t good for her. She was the woman who’d smile through the tears and would keep her faith through the good and the bad days.

But she was not her curves.

She was the smile that brought a sense of belonging to people around her. She was the hand you’d reach to for reassurance. She was the friend you could trust, the friend who would tell you with conviction: “I have your back honey, don’t worry”.

She was more than just those curvy hips. She was the kindness that emanated from her. She was the hope she had everytime life knocked her down. She was the phoenix that would rise from the ground after being burned down to ashes, stronger and more determined. She always frowned at injustice and encouraged fairness.

She was humane and sensitive. She was the tears that would roll down her cheeks everytime she felt sad. But that only made her feel more alive. She was the sun that burned fiercely and sometimes, she was the moon that could light up a dark room.
And yes, she was more than the pleasure that her luscious lips provided.

She was more than the woman who made men go weak down their knees. She was more than her piercing chatoyant look. She was more than just the woman who unintentionally flirted as she talked. She was more than the gracious sways of her hips as she walked across a room. She was not her curves.

She was an art lover, a music adept and a freedom-seeker and sometimes she was also demure.

Most of all, she was a woman who burned with ebullience deep inside when it came to love. She loved love. She was the woman who would love with all her heart, her body and her soul. She would always give more than she received even though she knew this wasn’t the right thing to do.

But she kept hoping her good karma would get back to her one day. However, until then, she continued to love deeply.

She was patient and trusted too easily. An ingénue one would say. But that didn’t stop her when it came to loving. She had perhaps a lot to learn from those heart-breaking relationships, that’s why she kept trying, believing she’d find serendipity in them.

Everytime she met someone, she hoped things would work out right this time even though deep down she knew this was going to be just another of her failed love stories.

But love was quintessential for her. It was the very essence of her life. And perhaps she lost herself in the middle of all of this, forgetting to love herself first while trying to love someone else.

But she was not her curves. No.

She was someone with scars that still needed healing. She was sometimes insecure about her imperfections but that’s what shaped her into the fascinating being that she was.

She was a woman, a sister, a friend, a confidante, but most of all, she was as plain and simple as the other women were, waiting to be loved and cared for. She was the woman who wanted to feel the gentle caress of a man on her body; she was the woman who wanted to feel the warmth of a man next to her during the cold days.

Just like the other women, she wanted to feel desired not because of her curves but for whom she was as a whole. She didn’t need anyone to complete her, but as it goes with our primal instincts, she wanted someone she could call her own and with whom she’d share her darkest secrets and her desires.

But until the time she meets this someone, she’ll have to get up yet again, hoping the world will see her as she is, in her truest form and not mistake her curves as her identity.

Because no, she is not her curves.