Body Love

With plastic surgery clinics mushrooming across Kuwait, the act of loving yourself for who you are is difficult, rebellious, and, most of all, essential.



My body is not a thing, my body is who I am. Through it, you can see my history, my culture, my experiences, my successes and my failures. It tells my story more clearly than any words I can speak.



My six-year-old sister, whose lively spirit I adore more than anything else, whose shameless inquisitiveness I’ve learned to inherit, whose glee and merriment supplied my sombreness with color, despised her physical appearance.