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Ugly Couple


One of the onion layers of pretense that my husband, the butcher, let go of was the notion of constantly needing to appear beautiful or sexually desirable to him.

He taught me that society often emphasizes how a wife should appear to her husband, with those close to me insisting on specific dress codes, behaviors, social circles, and even the use of religion to enhance attractiveness. In reality, they seek to mold us into the most desirable object in our husbands' eyes. Succumbing to these pressures, we strive to imitate role models not for personal liberation but to become objects of desire for the men in our lives.

Thus commenced his initial lesson in intimacy. He embraced me in my most raw state—hairy-faced, with an unremarkable physique, clad in unprovocative attire, and wrapped in lazy moods—everything deemed unappealing by today's standards of beauty and elegance in sexual encounters. He disregarded the value of my expensive saris or tattered one-dollar pajamas. 

He found me captivating amidst my mental struggles, in the depths of my lows, embracing my cries, vulnerability, and depression, even at my rock bottom.


He didn't view me through the lens of a social butterfly, nor did he see me as an unsightly cocoon needing his love, care, and attention to navigate life's myriad transformations. Only he understood the enigma of his attraction towards me, akin to a chef safeguarding the secret ingredient to his finest dish within himself.

Though initially a difficult truth to grasp, it gradually instilled confidence within me, allowing me to accept my body without self-consciousness, especially in moments of intimacy with him. I embraced the concept of Pablo Picasso's portrayal of the "ugly couple," finding beauty in imperfection and uniqueness.


By stripping away my conventional notions of beauty, the butcher, likening me to a piece of hanging meat, reveals how the world often views beauty through its narrow lens. Some recoil at the sight of ugliness and imperfection, preferring to distance themselves from it entirely. Others attempt to mask or alter it through superficial remedies and fleeting fixes. Only a select few, or perhaps just a handful, genuinely embrace and accept it for what it is. Even though many prefer to avert their gaze, everyone is fueled. 

Another challenge lies in accepting myself as I am and seeking true liberation without my freedom being misunderstood as promiscuity, making everyone covet the Butcher's "meat." For that, he had to peel away another layer of the onion.

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