Am I a good girl?

Am I a good girl?

I am a strong, soft, caring, intelligent women carrying panache of beauty and confidence. I am proud to be a good woman.

How do I know I am a woman?

My parents decided to give me everything that their own son would have got, including boy names, unisex clothes and tomboy hairstyle.  My taboo list included hair bands, bindi, sari, make up and men. Socially they declared that I was as good as their son. Despite my father’s disapproval for every other aggressive woman clad in trousers and short hair I got his approval for my short haircut and trousers. His advice was ” Good girls with short haircut don’t get aggressive”.

 My safe boundaries included education in prestige girl’s institutes and lecturer’s job. I was allowed to earn, but not spend. Good girls don’t spend lavishly! Wonder how they would have reacted, if I had decided to become a model or an actress. Would I have had ineffable charm and grace of being an actress and becoming an icon? My popularity would have made them lose perception of me being ingénue ”Good girls don’t become models they become mothers!”

My parents now wanted me to get married. My safe companion were books not men. Lesbian relation would have been a perfect, as there was no possibility of pregnancy. Well good girls are virgins at marriage and they don’t get pregnant before marriage.  The effervescence with which I carried out the role of being a good girl should have been applauded with a trophy.

At marriage, I was gifted off as ‘Kanyadan’. After marriage ceremony my father’s advice “compromise” become my best friend. In next few years, I had transformed from being a ordinary girl into a beautiful mother. So much had changed but I hadn’t allowed myself to rest or complain.  Good girls always accept changes happily, willingly and they are hard working.

As a woman I thought I knew how to “woo” my man.

My parents had told me that the way to any man’s heart is through his stomach. Ironically I discovered later that man’s heart is placed two inches below his stomach. Good girls take care of their man without talking about sex.

I taught myself to fall in safe motherly love. Two ways learning had started for me from the time I became a mother. We became each other’s strength, mirror, reflection and yardstick of self-growth. I learned art to lie, to create a mirage of “All is Well”. Yes, I had learnt the art of hiding my tears, and wearing a happy mask. Good girls know how to hide and wear a mask.

My Indefatigable effort to be a perfect woman has helped me to create a beautiful home.  This home is warm but empty, as kids have left nest to rediscover themselves. After they left I reinvented myself. I learnt to speak the truth again.  I did not feel like a good girl but I was happy. I broke my silence. I enjoyed my vulnerability and created massive shifts from feeling of not enough to being enough and complete I learnt that my imperfect life had taught me the lessons of how to be perfect.  

I understand today that there is nothing called a ‘Good Girl Syndrome’ so I have snapped out of my good girl dream and learnt to fly and do things that bring a smile on my face. Today I have luxury of spending languorous time listening to my own thoughts and writing them down. I call myself the luckiest girl on this planet as very few discover the art of doing what their heart desires. Good girls don’t do what their heart desires; they spend their life pleasing others. And I am not a good girl now.

  Written by

Anu Mehta
META-Health Master Trainer
anumehta.co.in