You know how liberated women say fair skin is not a measure of beauty? They're bull shitting you. Secretly and very quietly inside their dark almost Black or Prussian Blue hearts, they, those very liberated super cool women, don't think so at all. Secretly, in vaults visible only to their laser guided hands these women hide such precious stuff as bleach, Biotique coconut cream for blemishes and fair skin Ponds White Beauty (huh!) and (I want to be wrong) Fair and Lovely. I know it, because I've seen it. And after Goa (no less than three times this year) I've even felt it.
"TAN!" scream their silently accusing eyes, as soon as I park Goa blackened flesh within their field of vision. Some of those eyes run over me with a sort of deep sorrow, like, how do i break this to her? She's become so dark.
Dusky is all good on Bipasha, Rihanna, Beyonce and Tyra and etc. But a real world without gold highlights and photo shop is a lot less appreciative. And somehow i found myself succumbing to such hideous atrocities as "de-tan" face pack. In retrospect (which is a completely pointless exercise by the way), I'm suitably ashamed. But then, what's the point? I succumbed to the look, the baleful stare, the basilisk eye that pronounces every tan, ugly.