Inside you is an Ugly Betty, an Elle Woods or a Desperate Housewife. A flawed woman, an imperfect woman eager to make herself more perfect for someone else, to be what someone else thinks of them, someone who is sometimes overwhelmed by the things she doesn’t have but wants to live a happier life and feel more complete. So often as a woman we live our life constantly battling what is expected of us and what we expect of ourselves. But most of the times I have learnt to appreciate the imperfectness that makes me a woman. There is something raw, pure and sublime about accepting the flaws that make you who you are. But its even more empowering to stop trying to be perfect; to stop measuring yourself with the yardsticks of another woman’s beauty, body, success, fame, money, popularity or peace. Being an imperfect woman is living a full life, it is dipping your hands deep into the jar of life and licking each emotion off, one finger at a time. Its tolerating the taste of bitterness, savoring the flavor of peace, resisting the taste of jealousy, teasing yourself with the smells of success, relishing the bursts of selflessness, swallowing the seeds of fears, biting down the bits of impatience. I am an imperfect woman and I don’t always handle myself with aplomb. I err, I cry, I laugh and I fight and I am happy accepting that. Because its all these imperfections bundled together that makes me, the unique me.