The Effect Marriage Has Had on The Women of My Family

In the earlier parts of my life, the distinguishing line between forced and arranged marriages had been blurred. In some ways, I relate this back to my westernised upbringing. An interesting study made by Edward Said in his text 'Orientalism' explored how the Western eye views other cultural practices as versions of its own tendencies. If it strays from conventional Western normalities, it is dismissed as unnatural - despite it potentially being an unproblematic custom in its place of origin. Somewhere along the line, the Western world confused the practices of forced and arranged marriages (which, I feel the need to point out, it indeed encouraged itself in prior centuries) and the effects have been widely misleading.

With my mind being imbued with the problematic images of young brides-to-be, carrying trays of tea and biscuits into the room - inhabited by a potential suitor, I was exceedingly quick to reject the possibility of an arranged marriage of my own.

I suppose I believed that no one in their right mind would ever undergo an arranged marriage willingly. The thought seemed bizarre and foreign. Unnatural and slightly unsettling. I had thought that rejecting the concept of an arranged marriage complimented the regimented feminist agenda that I had adopted and thus, it became a thing that I would shake my head at.

I'm older now, and I can recognise that my prior views were more heavily influenced by what an arranged marriage used to be as opposed to what it is now. Before, societal views that favoured wealth, fair skin and future prospects hugely dominated the minds of those who would orchestrate such marriages, and thus arranged marriages were used as a means to marry for advantage as opposed to genuine connection.

Yet, what angered me most was how arranged marriages were used to deliver a young woman away from the control of one male and into the control of another. This would often be done without wholly acknowledging the wants and needs of the young women in question, and this is arguably where the confusion between arranged and forced marriages begun.

It was in discussions with the women of my own family that led to my growing aggravation at the abundance of female ambitions that have been squandered through these binding marital contracts.

If I look at my maternal grandmother, for example, I can see a woman who had a potent love for history and acquiring knowledge of the wider world. A woman who still seeks to educate herself on the profound gravities of modern life, yet a woman who was robbed of her independence - to pursue such endeavours - at the age of seventeen.

I am seventeen, and I cannot even begin to fathom having to give up the wealth of education that I have gained in order to establish a family with another human being. There is still so much I have left to do. Still so much that I have left to learn.

In conversations with my grandmother, she tells me that she is still happy with the way she lived her life. She tells me that she cannot bring herself to regret the joys that both my mother and uncle have given her. Yet, there is an acknowledgement of what her life could have been, had she been given the chance to explore and enrich her promising capacities.

There had been a particular discussion with my grandmother, that I remember, wherein she had told me that when my mother had reached the expected 'marriageable' age she had fought fiercely to shelter her from the outpouring of proposals that had been sent her way. She wanted to give my mother the time to truly explore herself. She had wanted to give my mother the time that she hadn't been given herself.

It is the stories, such as these, that make me feel such profound depths of gratitude that my own parents don't expect such a marriage of me. As I have gotten older, the idea of marriage has lost its appeal. The sacrifices that I have seen the women in my life make, in order to provide such futures for their children, are some that I struggle to comprehend. I don't know if I ever will be ready to give so much up, as they have done for me.

Maybe that makes me selfish. A lot of women are branded with such a title for their refusal to marry and have children. Yet, I don't tend to view it that way. I want to live a life that satisfies the things that my mother and grandmothers would have wanted. If I change my mind, then so be it - but at least I have been gifted with the wonders of having a choice. Something that they, undeservingly, didn't have, and it is a gift that I refuse to take for granted.

So no, I don't hate arranged marriages anymore. Now that I am older, I understand that if an individual wants to enter such an agreement, then they have every right to do so.

As long as they have a choice.

Women Aren't Fruit

The definition of a fruit is ' the sweet and fleshy product of a tree or other plant that contains seed and can be eaten as food'. For awhile, fruits have also been used as a means to categorize the female body into different types. They have been used, perhaps, as a tool to instruct women on how they should react to their own bodies, and this is a practice that is in a desperate need of being stopped. 

There are many attempts out there to put labels on what we know to be the undeniably diverse form of the female body. The ever present need to scrutinise the female form has existed for what seems to have been an eternity, and what lingers is an aching need to conform and become apart of what is constantly presented to be the ideal. Yet, what is the ideal?

The earliest memory that I can recall, wherein I was left to question the natural shape of my body, was when I was aged nine. From what I remember, I was with two other girls in the school bathroom and we were stood in front of this long mirror, posing. By chance, these two girls lacked even one ounce of the puppy fat that I had readily accumulated, and I can remember staring at it idly as they both twirled around the floors outside the toilet stalls.

What strikes me most about this memory is not only how young I was when it happened, but the fact that I can still remember it. Something, that otherwise would have been meaningless, has been carved into the innermost parts of my brain, purely because of the way it had made me feel. I doubt those other girls remember that moment, or at least not in the way that I do.

It hurts to think that the female body has been picked at to the point where even young girls struggle to feel beautiful.

Perhaps the most bizarre aspect of this all is the fact that no one fully knows what the 'perfect' female body would look like. Everybody appears to yearn for different things, so why have we not reached a point where we universally accept that every single form on this earth is worthy of being both loved and cherished?

When I was slightly younger than what I am now, I remember turning to internet - in search of guidance as to what I should wear in order to 'best flatter my figure' (a.k.a. to hide my chest) . What I was met with were an array of videos that dictated what women of certain body types should and shouldn't wear. Back then, it had been almost hypnotic. I had felt the need to abide by these unspoken laws, and if that meant rejecting my beloved turtle necks then I was ready to be compliant.

There was some point down the line when I began to recognise the flaws that were inherently laced into the words of those supposed 'wise women'. Every word that they would utter seemed to be in relation to hiding something. And it occurred to me that the things they would insist needed to be concealed, were the very things that made an individual a human being.

It made me wonder about something. It made me wonder about why there was an apparent necessity to hide the beauty within the realism of such imperfections - if that is even what they should be called.

Now that I am older, I can appreciate the wonders of the human body that I had been blind to before. I strive to cherish it, and I work hard to appreciate the abundance of things that it gives me the capacity to do.

It isn't always easy. Moments before writing this I had stared in the mirror, wide-eyed at the prospect of a faint crease embedding itself into the depths of my face and somewhat alarmed at the light lines that peppered the inner parts of my thigh. Yet, I told myself that each of those marks held a potent significance. I told myself that even if they weren't beautiful in society's eyes, they were beautiful in mine. And that was all that mattered.

The painting that I have attached above was something that I created in the early parts of the quarantine period. It had started as a means to ridicule those vacant labels that get thrown around, such as 'pear shape' and 'apple shape', yet when I was finished with it - I realised that it had become something more. To me, it had become a symbol of unity and inclusivity, one that rejected any attempt to categorise the mesmerising beauty of  the diverse female form.

It is apparent to me now, more than ever, that women should never have been likened to fruit. Women are not fruit, we are human. And that is something that we should celebrate and revel in, rather than letting it be something that we strive to conceal. 

A One Year Anniversary

Hello everyone,

Today I watched a Hindi film called ‘The Sky is Pink’ , it’s based on a true story and follows a family dealing with illness. It was so beautifully raw and captivating. To think of what that family has had to endure made my heart squeeze. I suppose it also got me thinking about my own experiences with illness within my family. I feel so fortunate to have all of my immediate family with me still. Though there are moments when I think of how different my life could have been if even the smallest events hadn’t occurred. If I think about when my mother first found a lump in her breast, I’m overwhelmed with this chilling emotion and realisation that we got lucky. And I know that sounds bizarre. How could we possibly be lucky ? But if I think about the events leading up

to that, how she’d just finished her contract for her temporary job so she had more time to lounge around in the morning, how that one morning her fingers just happened to brush against a part of her that wasn’t usually there … I know now that had that not happened, my mother would have died in less than a year. 

And then I think about where my family and I were, this time last year. Last Saturday marks one year since my mother received her second diagnosis. And yet I’m still pushed into thinking at how lucky we were to have caught it so early. Had her check up been a week earlier, the tumour wouldn’t have been picked up & I would be feeling something very different today. As this year has progressed, I have become familiar with something I had long hoped I’d never have to know again. I’ve learned more about what my mother had to go through the first time. At 10 years old I was completely unaware of the relentless hospital visits and risks to my mother’s life. She tells me the stories every now and then. And every time I feel my stomach churn. How she was rushed to hospital in a critical condition merely hours after her own father’s death …  the profound effects the entire ordeal had on her mental health for years afterwards ... the effects that I was - and arguably still am - so painfully unaware of. 

If I think too much about it all, I feel heavy. Sort of like how I do right now. Even though my family have passed through arguably the most challenging parts of our lives, I can see the everlasting effects that cancer has had on all of us. My dad was unable to treat cancer patients for a year after my mum’s first diagnosis. My sister, now more familiar with it since earlier this year, goes quiet every time it’s mentioned. I guess even I do. I hate hearing the word when it’s not being said by me, which I know sounds so weird. It’s almost as if, when I say it , I feel in control over my emotions - I know that it’s coming. When it’s said by someone else, to raise awareness, or in a film, or even flippantly like ‘oh don’t drink from the same plastic bottle, you’ll get cancer’. I just feel this shudder and a chill. Sometimes I feel an irrational sense of anger, that people have the power to say something so life changing and pivotal , without even batting an eyelid. 

 I’m not sure what the purpose of this was. I’m not sure if I’ll even share it. I think writing this served as a cathartic experience. The effects of illness in a family are something that linger even when everything seems normal. I often think people forget that. After my mother was cleared I felt this sudden shift, almost as if no one - apart from my family - regarded it as a problem anymore. And I guess it wasn’t. She’s healthy now, that’s all we ever wanted. But I still feel that there’s a lot of me that hasn’t said what I’ve always wanted to say. But that’s okay, I understand that. These things are such taboo topics and things that are so understandably difficult to talk about. I never want to make anyone uncomfortable by forcing them into talking about it, and so I think that’s why I never asked.

 Watching the film today truly spurred my most evaluative thoughts. I’m so grateful that my mum is still here. I’ll be the first to admit that the relationship with my parents needs a LOT of work. We have an unhealthy abundance of arguments, but it’s moments like this - when my mind replays everything we’ve experienced together, that I think of how lucky we’ve been. And I get reminded of what all I have to fight for. I know I’m not special. So many people endure what we had to go through and much worse. I don’t regard myself as particularly strong either - that’s all on my mum, she was the fighter. But I do think that I got to learn a lot about myself during both times & how I’ve grown in between them. So I guess I’ll end this here. It’s still so weird to think that this time last year, I was lying in my bed with tears streaming down my face - staring at the ceiling , just completely and utterly dreading 2019. And here we are. Having gone through what I thought would be my worst year, and being ready for the next decade of my life. I’m hopeful. 

The Key To Confidence With Glasses...

Hello everybody!

So, today i'm posting about something which I know many of you will be aware about. Glasses, and i'm talking about the object that aids your vision (not the the drinking glass, haha.) , are something i've had to wear for a couple of years now. Initially, it wasn't full time and I hated my glasses. Alot. I'd remove them the second that I finished my notes in class - stuffing them in their case and into the realms of my bag. At this point in time, I could still see relatively well without them. A slight haze, but nothing too major.
  As time progressed, I noticed my eyesight deteriorating. I held off getting my eyes checked, as I was scared they'd tell me to wear them full time. Eventually, it got to the point where I could no clonger see clearly through my glasses, so alas - I told my parents.
 The opticians only confirmed my fear, saying that i'd need to wear it full time. I was still in a huge mood about having these... 'weird block things on my face' , and so whilst I agreed to where them full time, my routine (yanking them off after lessons) continued.
 Once again, my eyesight grew weaker. This time, after being told I must wear my glasses full time (even more insistant than the first!), I sucked it up and went along with it. I knew I had to, I couldn't keep squinting at things when I was out of lessons. That, and my mum was keeping a very close eye on me.
  So I picked out a frame that I liked, though I hated most of them. Not because they were all 'ugly' , just because they made me ugly. The initial few weeks, as pathetic as it sounds, i'd sit in front of the mirror and internally cry at how horrendous I looked and felt. I'd psyched myself  up into this frenzy in which I believed people would view me differently because of these permanent specs. But in all honesty, no one really batted an eyelid. And if someone was to comment on my glasses, it usually took the form of a small, sweet compliment.
   Eventually, I grew to just tolerate them. I no longer would stare forlornly at the mirror - taking my glasses off and thinking of how they ruined my face. Whilst I still didn't particularly like them, they no longer were that much of a big deal. And now, here I am, a few months down the line writing a blogpost about gaining confidence with glasses.
  I'm not going to lie. I still pretty much loathe my glasses. Like I said, I deal with them now and don't have my little weep sessions - but I still think they make me look weird. I'm hoping that one day i'll come to love them & then i'll write an even more informative blogpost - but right now i'm just going to write a small bit on how i've grown to... not hate them as much.
  Eventually, I will be getting contact lenses. At first, I was opposed to the idea. Putting something near to invisible in my eye? No thank you! However, i've come to realise that they're not as bad as they look. I have multiple friends who wear contacts and whilst they admit it takes time getting used to at first- it's second nature to slip them into their eye now.
  Often, when I first started wearing glasses full time, i'd often find myself going 'Why do I have to have glasses, none of my friends have them'. Ofcourse I knew that I wasn't in a minority when it came to people wearing glasses - it often made me feel a bit self concious when I realised that all my friends didn't have to deal with glasses. That is, until I found out that one of them wears contacts (the one I was telling you about earlier). I think that little discovery put things into perspective for me , and I started to notice that loads of people use contacts. Some of the people who I constantly envied for having supposedly perfect vision , I later found out that they used contacts. This made me feel a little bit better, and I still am not completely sure why, I suppose I didn't feel as alone as before. I know some of you will be wondering why I felt alone in the first place, but I can't give you a definite answer, i'm afraid.
  The key to confidence is to be very honest with yourself. Why do you need glasses? Because you can't see clearly without them. Do you want to see clearly? I'm assuming the answer is yes. Are contacts/ laser eye surgery an option in the future? If the answer is yes, then great - you just have to wait till the time is right. If not, then just accept your new look and embrace it. I compare this situation with braces. I know alot of people that loathe braces, but for me I always had looked forward to getting them, because I was so excited for the end result- and that's how you should view glasses too. The end result is that you can see!

I know it's hard, but it's not too bad in the end, and there are always ways around it. Thank you for reading, and when I get contacts, i'll do a post on all the need to knows  etc. Bye!

-The Blogtique xx

(NOTE : I wrote this awhile back, but seemingly forgot about it. I now use contacts regularly and have decided to embrace my glasses. I'll write a post on that soon, but I thought that for anyone who'd be interested in my journey in accpeting the new way I looked back then, i'd post it!)

Super Duper Quick Update

Hello!

So I know that this isn't a proper post, but I wanted to let any of you that care (wow, that came out insanely cynical) that my blog is undergoing a makeover. I know, I know, no more 'Beti-Online'. I guess you could say I just grew out of the name and wanted a more, day I say... sophisticatedly cute name (does that make sense?). This is a blog I want to keep going for as long as possible, and the name 'Beti- Online' just didn't reflect me anymore. 

  Okay, this sounds way more 'midlife crisis-esque' than I was going for. I can assure you that I have not experience a (and I quote) 'a loss of self-confidence and feeling of anxiety or disappointment that can occur in early middle age.'. I'm not even middle aged (far from it actually). The term 'Beti' was something my friends and family used in a joking manner, and when my mum suggested the name I was eager to use it- just because I found it a bit funny. That inside joke isn't really used anymore - and i've outgrown it. However, that doesn't mean i've outgrown the blog - and my writing style may have matured, but i'm still your local fangirl who loves Taylor Swift and Chinese food like crazy. I promise. 

   So say hello to 'Blogtique' (not going to lie, i'm really proud of this name - it fits 3 things I love most in one cute lil' name; fashion/beauty, blogging and... PUNS. I mean, who doesn't love a good pun?

   Anyway, I should probably sign off now. I'll try come up with a new brill' name to leave at the end of my posts, but for now I can just be '...' or , for the sake of using words, 'dot dot dot'. I'll see you (soon, hopefully) with a new content filled post soon, so brace yourself :)

Bye!

Dot Dot Dot xx

Spa Fiasco

Hey !

So , I decided to write about this incident that happened to me recently , because it is very funny & true , and it also proves that I , above all people am NOT PERFECT .

So , a week ago, I decided to have a relaxing pamper evening . I don't think I've ever had one before , so I was very new to the whole face mask thing . I had come out of the bath and I had started to put the face mask on my face .

I thought it had gone swell , and I was so excited about it being my first face mask , that I kept on going over and over the original mask. Im actually not sure whether your supposed to that , or whether it's just one layer ...(please comment what you are supposed to do !) So, after I had basically finished the one sachet , I went back into the tub , and like I had seen lots of other people do , I put two cucumbers on my eyes .

However , I honestly don't know how people manage to keep them on because mone kept slipping down my cheeks , leaving my eyes feeling super blurry. Eventually , I just held them there , which defeats the point of relaxing ...

After( When I had just had enough with the cucumbers !) I threw them in the bin ( I don't think people would like to eat face mask covered cucumbers - even if it was a chocolate face mask !) I wrapped my hair in a towel and just watched YouTube in my onzie .

Then I removed my face mask - which actually was really upsetting because I had grown really attached to that thing ... :-( - anyway , after I removed it , I just put some cream on my face - and just painted my nails etc. I then went down for dinner , and my mum said

'What's happened to your eyebrows ?'

I literally ran to the downstairs mirror and glared at my reflection because my eyebrows had turned into a huge bush . Looking back , I think it was because I had applied my face mask over my eyebrows , so it may have - I don't know - made it darker and fluffier(Is that even a word ? )

I think , after that I spent an hour just thoroughly rubbing my eyebrows . Wow... great pamper evening !

I sure did love it , apart from all the rubbing & slippery cucumbers etc - but at least now I know how to have a proper pamper evening without being super messy - and looking like ...*tries to think of someone famous with bushy eyebrows* ...*gives up* ...someone with mega bushy eyebrows ! :-)

Thanks for reading !

Bye !

I Can't Believe My Family Takes Selfies !!

Hey,

The other day I was just scrolling through my mum's camera roll ( probably 200 + pictures ) As I was scrolling through the pictures , I saw a selfie that my mum had taken . I was shocked . I kept on scrolling and soon alot more selfies came up. They weren't pouty selfies , they were just selfies - serious selfies .It came to my attention that she had also downloaded Retrica ( An amazing selfie taking app )
       My friend  added her as a contact ( Don't ask why , Even I don't know myself to be honest ;-P ) Which means that she has access to my mum's whatsapp profile pictures , which always tend to be my mum's selfies ...
   My mum isn't the only person in my family 'in touch' with  their inner '20th Century Life ' ( I had no other words to describe that ...) My dad once texted me 'Lol' . I was really surprised , because my dad is generally a very formal man , I also felt  slightly embarrassed  because my friends were right next to me when the text came , and they looked at me as if I was completely mad . Luckily , i'm not the only one with parents who are completely bonkers . One of my best friend's parents think they are super cool too , I think one of them even has snapchat !
   Sadly , it doesn't end there. I was talking to my grandparents over the phone as they live in India , and my grandad said 'Why don't you take a selfie and send it to us ?'  I nearly fainted because I didn't even know 'selfie' was in their vocabulary . That's not all , my grandma , then said , ' When  I take selfies they make me look different ' I didn't even know she took selfies ;-P
   I added her on whatsapp and as my profile picture only shows  half of my face she sent me a message saying ' The picture is not clear , I can only see half of your face ' . I responded saying           ' Don't Worry - it's a style of selfie taking ' , her response made me laugh in a good way 'Oh i'm so sorry , I did not know it was a style *inserts distraught face*' Okay so the insert  distraught face bit was just because computers don't have emogis , but she actually had sent an emogi ( if that makes sense !) So , I then sent a picture of my sister and I  . I smiled because I feel that pouting is inappropriate for grandmas ( even if they do take selfies ) You would have expected my little sister to smile too , but no - my sister went for a full on pout . I guess I have myself to blame - for many reasons ...

• One- I take alot of pouty selfies around her .
• Two- I encourage her to pout in pictures to annoy my dad ( I know right , he likes abbreviations but no pouting - How could he ?! )
• Three - Well.... I may have given her lessons on how to take an awesome selfie along with my friend...

Ermmm... well , if you think about it , it's only 3 reasons  , so it can't completely be my fault , can it ?Maybe it can ... 

I bet there are alot more people with selfie taking grandmas - abbreviating dads - pouting sisters  etc. If you have another embarrassing relative - feel free to comment down what they do ! It will be very funny  to read some of them , and maybe some of us can relate to you !Think of it as a good old chat about our mad ones ;-)

                                 Bye !

Introducing...Me...!

Hey !

I don't really know where to start , this is my blog . I have wanted to make one for ages , but I was stuck on ideas of what to call it  , and I think I worried a bit too much about whether the public would like my posts or not . 

   If you are wondering , what 'beti' means , it means daughter/girl. I decided to make this blog because I just wanted my own internet space . 

   This blog is where i'm going to just be me . I don't want to reveal myself because I like the idea of blogging under a secret identity , and also I just want to be myself without being judged . I'm not even going to tell my friends . My parents know , but that's because i'm hopeless at keeping secrets and because I don't have my own laptop (yet !) I have to use my mum's , and she would get suspicious if I always hog the laptop . Also I trust them not to tell ANYONE , even though when I was little my mum would have a meeting with her friends where they would all gossip about their own child's life , my mum shared some pretty dark secrets , even though she acts as if it never happened  , when you ask her now. 

     I feel that girls generally seem to be more insecure than boys. You don't always have to look perfect , half of the time , i'm in a hoodie and sweatpants ! I do love beauty though , it's probably one of my guilty pleasures , saying that , I don't wear make-up ALL the time , just when i'm going out , or if I just want to , I don't know ? Pretend i'm a supermodel ? Yep , I like to imagine unreal things , i'm a bit of a daydreamer ;-)

   Since this blog is anonymous , there will be no selfies , or pictures of my family . There will be pictures though , just not of them .

  I'm not going to reveal my age , my postcode  , or anything like that . At the moment I don't have any social media specifically for my blog , so for the time being ignore the social media icons ;-) Despite this , I do have a special email for your questions , which is : betionlinemail@gmail.com . I bet 50% of you thought that was a link , haha ;-)

             If anyone actually read this , thanks ! And please feel free to comment what you want to read ! If I can , I will post them , but remember I can't always do everything , and to be honest , it is going to be a bit quiet initially , but that's okay , because no one is going to get 1000 followers overnight , right?

                                           Until my next post -Bye !

                                                                          Beti-Online