i’m not even gonna bother putting this under a read more. let me just throw all my emotions on the dash.
so being a brown girl in a conservative family, dating has always been hard. first boyfriend, trying to hide it from my mother, it was hard. incredibly so. so i told her yesterday cause i couldn’t take it anymore. i thought it through over and over again, but i told her. i knew what qualms she’d have with him because i know he’s not her taste. to be frank, me and her have never had the same taste. but i thought she’d give that up. i thought she’d be willing to look back the fact that he’s not some model-esque prince charming she’s always wanted. i thought she’d be able to accept that i find him attractive and that’s all that matters.
she didn’t. she’s honed down on one trait and told me again and again “if he was taller, i’d be okay with it.” height. you’re telling me, height is the reason you’re going to tear me away from the boy i love. you’re telling me height -- he’s two inches taller than me, 3 shorter than my dad. no, he’s not tall. no one’s ever said he was, and he knows that too. he’s taller than me. he’s taller than my mom.
regardless of how tall he is. why does that matter. why is that the deal breaker? how do you expect me to break up with a boy because of his goddamn motherfucking height. i knew it would come down to complexion (because south asians are disgusting with their shadism) or height. i expected it to be more so complexion actually. but it’s not and it’s killing me. i thought my parents, my mother, was a better person than this. i thought she had a bigger heart than this. i presented a guy to her who has a heart bigger than i could ever ask for, a guy of the same race, religion, can speak the language, well-educated, family oriented, and this. this is what it comes down to. she’s watched her daughter practically hyperventilate from crying and hasn’t budged.
what the actual fuck. what the actual fuck am i supposed to do? if i leave a boy for a physical trait that I have no problem with -- how am i supposed to not regret that for the rest of my life?
what. the. actual. fuck.
