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I'm always amazed when women say "I'm just a housewife" when someone asks them, "So, are you working?" As if a housewife doesn't work. As if being a housewife is shameful and you need to sound apologetic. So sorry, that I chose to stay home and take care of the family. Personally, I find the term homemaker more comforting. It sounds spiffier and definitely more "productive". The woman of the house who makes the house a home -- yes, that's me!
Too many women I know today measure their self-worth by the space between their thighs. "Oh I want to be thin... I need a man, yaar." I don't really think this is about men. It's about other women. What follows is depression, diets and banal discussion. Some work out, some just suck it out. But either way, the thighs start to get thin, so the dresses get shorter. And the lady thinks she is "in".
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You must have already formed an image of me in your mind, but let me fill in the gaps for you. I am a US Size 4, light-skinned, light-eyed, brown-haired girl living in a nation obsessed with fair skin. You must be wondering what gives me the entitlement to write this article since I occupy quite an enviable position in this culture.
Interestingly, I never thought I was fat. Not when I was 12 years old. Not when I was 22. Not now, when I am pushing 30 and have loosened muscles all over after carrying a child for nine months. But I have always been described as large by the people around me -- in a way that makes me feel bad about being big.