Be very proud of me, Naomi Wolf.

I realise that this is a very tired topic, but honestly, I'm so sick of stores making clothes for mannequins instead of women. I went to buy something to wear for Ruchika's sangeet, but I couldn't find a single thing because apparently women who weigh above 40 kgs aren't allowed to wear fancy clothes.

I'm sick of beauty ideals that don't take factors such as genetics and ethnicity into consideration, instead subscribing to a "one-size-fits-all" mentality.

I'm sick of "fat" being equated with unhealthy, when some of the skinniest people I know are hardcore smokers, drinkers and fast-fooders.

I'm sick of magazines constantly telling me I'm not good enough, and then being kind enough to show me the right path. Next month, when their anti-cellulite prescriptions have failed, they tell me the same thing again, only this time in different words.

I'm sick of the beauty industry capitalizing on the misery of women whose self-worth is measured by the size of their jeans.

I'm sick of being chided for weight gain, complimented on weight loss because dude, I'm so much more than my love handles.

I'm sick of being told that I'm too fat, too short, too dark. I'm sick of wondering why my hair isn't thick enough or why my skin isn't clear enough or why, HOLY MOTHER OF JESUS, you had to give me stretchmarks?

I'm sick of mirrors becoming enemies because a long time ago, we used to be friends.

I'm sick of mentally criminalizing sensory indulgences because guilt and feeling good are a grumpy couple.

I'm sick of scheming against acne because acne, unlike anti-biotics, never did me much harm.

I'm sick of this whole "covet-her-stats" scenario because real women are neither airbrushed nor Jessica Rabbit.

I'm sick of phrases like "real women have curves" because I know plenty of "real women" who don't.

I am now done with my hackneyed soap-box ranting. Someone pass me the chocolate mousse.