Stop saying 'I love you' if you can't give her a belly massage.

                                                               

        

In a world filled with brutality and crime, he found me—a soul so pure. He considered it a sin to call me an ordinary girl, preferring instead to describe me as down-to-earth. His name is Aarav, and he is twenty-eight years old. Like most Indian families, his parents were deeply concerned about his marriage. In their eyes, a man nearing twenty-seven needed to find a bride quickly, as it was believed that men above thirty would struggle to find the perfect match. Following tradition, they began their search, and as part of this alliance, Aarav met me.

I’m Ankita, twenty-one years old. Two days after Aarav’s parents visited my home and approved of me as a daughter-in-law, Aarav reached out. We started talking on Instagram, which soon shifted to WhatsApp. Initially, he came across as slightly rude, but as days passed, he revealed himself to be the hero of my dreams.

However, as our bond grew, I discovered something unsettling—Aarav was highly conscious of physical beauty. I wasn’t conventionally attractive. I had extra weight around my hips, dark patches around my lips, and a brown, uneven skin tone. I didn’t realize my appearance would bother him, but it did. Aarav introduced a condition to our budding relationship: I needed to lose weight and become leaner and more elegant.

This demand disrupted the beautiful garden of love we were building. He wanted me to start working out rigorously and seek treatments to improve my skin. Initially, I was embarrassed. This so-called 'love' now seemed conditional, hinging on my ability to fulfill his aesthetic desires. I tried various beauty products, hoping for a miracle, but none worked. I pushed my body through strenuous yoga routines, sit-ups, Russian twists, inchworms, and tuck jumps. Yet, my efforts failed, and instead of losing weight, I gained even more around my hips.

As time passed, our fights increased, and our communication dwindled. I began to resent his obsession with my appearance. Every morning during our video calls, he would ask, "Did you work out today?" If I answered "Yes," his immediate reply was, "Don't lie." These exchanges filled me with growing anger and frustration. This fixation on my body image started to take a toll on my mental health.

Aarav had many qualities that made him a great partner—he was kind, loving, and thoughtful. He often said he admired my genuineness, pure heart, and upbringing. Yet, my physical appearance seemed to overshadow all these qualities. One sleepless night, a question nagged at me: If a man is ashamed to love his girlfriend unconditionally, even to the extent of giving her a belly massage, what is the point of that love?

The answer never came to me. Blaming society for its fixation on slim bodies and fair skin over true understanding and love, I closed my eyes, hoping to find peace in sleep.