But I learned every rose has its thorns, / and every body has its demons.
Just turn off the switch, / stand in front of a mirror, / and you will see / that you are already what you’re meant to be.
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.