While accepting womanhood!

As a kid, I thought becoming a woman meant, wearing a saree without becoming tangled in it, walking like those shampoo ad girls, and carrying a purse that swung like it had its own personality.

I'd steal mom's dupatta, apply lipstick like paint, and stand in front of the mirror thinking,
"Yes. This is it. This is maturity."

Spoiler: It was not.

Becoming a woman didn’t come with theme music or a sparkly moment where the universe applauded me.
No spotlight. No drama.
Instead, it came like a slow software update full of lag, confusion, and random emotional crashes.

Now I’m 22.
Technically an adult, practically still confused.
Half the time I’m giving advice like a therapist, and the other half I’m googling “is it okay if we eat only chips for lunch.”

Some days I feel unstoppable, independent, bold, like main khud ki favourite hoon energy.
Other days I cry because the pani puri guy didn't show up.

It’s weird.

My body changed before I mentally approved it.
Emotions? More complicated than my wardrobe on a wedding day.
I’ve started crying over things I never cared about before like when someone finishes the pickle jar and puts it back empty. Monsters.

I’ve learned to say “I’m fine” in five different tones, all meaning “I need Maggi and a hug.”

And through this awkward, beautiful chaos there’s Maa.
Once the strict lady with deadlines and disapproving looks,
now my 3AM speed dial when I can’t find my charger.

I didn’t even notice when her “You’re not allowed” turned into “I trust your decision.”
That silent shift? More powerful than any life lecture.

Now she just… gets it.
I say “Hello” and she’s like, “Who hurt you today?”
Honestly, I don’t need solutions. Just hearing her say “Haan, I understand” is like emotional zandu balm.

So yeah  I’m not a full-grown “figured-it-all-out” woman yet.
But I’ve started picking up the pieces.
Learning when to keep going, and when to just binge-watch TV guilt-free.

Being a woman (or whatever this phase is) isn’t about having answers 
it’s about carrying 17 tabs open in your brain, still managing to show up for yourself and your people.

It’s about overthinking texts,
sending memes instead of feelings,
and slowly, quietly becoming softer… but stronger.

It’s in tiny victories:
Not cancelling plans last minute,
saying “no” without guilt,
loving people harder even when you’re running on low battery.

And most importantly 
it’s showing up for yourself on the days no one else does.
(With maybe some chips, overthinking, and a motivational reel.)

Nope, it wasn’t the saree or the purse that made me a woman.
It was everything in between.
The meltdowns, the small wins, the emotional gym workout that life sneakily makes you do.

And if my younger self saw me now?
She’d probably say,
“Okay, you're still a little weird... but you’re kinda cool. I like her.”