bad hair day

Morning mirror reflected my tangled mess. I laughed, remembering Swami Paramarthananda's words about accepting imperfection. My grandmother used to say ancient Keeladi potters never obsessed over flaws—their vessels held water regardless. Social media screamed perfection everywhere. Influencers monetized every curated moment. I'd caught myself doing the same, chasing validation through filtered images. Today felt different. Messy hair, genuine smile, authentic self. I stepped outside without fixing anything. My neighbor noticed my lightness, smiled back. We talked about our gardens, real things. Community thrives on truth, not polish.