Mother I do not know what to do with myself Shall I shave my hands and legs, and all parts of my body? Shall I wax myself clean inching closer to what femininity is supposed to look like? Do I sculpt my body like Uma Devi herself? Do I spend effort to look pristine and perfect like Uma Devi herself? Can I ever be as perfect as her? I don’t believe I can, mother. I am sickly, and hairy. and detestable to look at. I am made of hairfall, and dandruff And hair growth everywhere I am made of broad shoulders and back acne tan lines and double chin love handles and a pot belly I am made of the features of a man, a monkey. Mother I am all this and more. Where am I anywhere close to you Uma Devi? You have bewitched me with your beauty And held me at a distance from it yet the same Impossible to reach, impossible to emulate Mother, you who have made me Why not show me more grace, mother? All this I shall acc...