Smile As You Want, not as others want.

Growing up, I was called "bugs bunny' or "bunny teeth girl." But those words didn’t define me. This is how I learned to smile from my heart.

I was around 9 or 10 when my teeth began to change, like everyone gets through the phase of growing new teeth. But mine grew into goofy bunny teeth, making it hard to fully close my lips. I was just a kid, too young to understand why it mattered, yet old enough to notice how people laughed. They called me “bugs bunny,” a rude way of saying “bunny teeth.”

At first, I didn’t think much of it, because at last I was just a young, immature kid. But the comments never stopped, the children around my age started to bully me too, hearing what others used to call me.

There were times when I used to complain to my sister that I don't like what they call me, please tell them to stop saying such names, while she would comfort me by saying, "it's alright, those are just nicknames, giving by the people who loves you."

Uhh?? They love me? Now I think they only loved to see me broke. Because... What happens when a nickname isn’t cute anymore? What happens when it’s no longer a joke, but a wound repeated so many times that it carves its way into you?

Cut to part, by the time I was in 6th grade, my mother took me to a dentist, tired from listening to everyone's comments. The dentist scraped my front teeth a little to level them. And even after that, everyone around us kept telling my mother the same thing:

“Get her braces as soon as possible, or she won’t get married. She won’t look pretty.”

I was still a child, but those words found a place in my memory. They sat there quietly, waiting for the day they would hurt me…

That day came years later.

In college, I already carried other insecurities, my acne, my skin color, my lack of communication, but they didn’t affect me much until one afternoon in 12th grade. I was packing my bag to leave class when a group of students who stood in front of me started making fun of my teeth. They mimicked my smile, exaggerated the shape of my mouth, made faces like I was invisible, and at last they laughed it off.

Do you know what it feels like to hear laughter that isn’t shared with you, but aimed at you?

Do you know what it’s like to have your confidence crumble in seconds?

I froze.

I smiled on the outside, confused, but inside, I broke.

When I reached home, it hit me really hard. I started crying, sitting in the corner, hiding from everyone. My sister-in-law saw me, but I couldn't come face-to-face with her and tell her what had happened.

After breaking down to the point that my eyes swelled up, I texted my sister:

“Am I not pretty? They made fun of me. Do I not look good? I should get braces.”

Do you see how a single moment can plant a lifetime of doubt?

Up until then, I had been scared to get braces. I loved my bunny teeth. I never hated how I looked. I even fought with my family when they used to tell me that I’d get braces once I was old enough to handle the pain. I used to tell them I was happy the way I looked, but that day, I begged them.

When I finally got braces, they hurt more than I imagined. I was already underweight, and now I could barely eat. The pain stayed for days, weeks, months… and eventually, years.

Before I got them, a friend once told me at a wedding: “Smile as you are, not as others want.” That sentence stayed with me even after I fell deep into a pitch-black hole.

And maybe that’s what we need, one kind sentence to hold onto when the world keeps telling us we’re not enough.

Now, four years later, I’m still wearing braces. Sometimes they hurt so much I can’t eat for days. But I smile, not because my teeth are “finally getting better,” but because I LOVE how I look when I smile from my heart.

Ps: I coincidentally saw them in my university some time ago, and I was scared to face them, their mocking kept ringing in my head, I'm still scared to face them because maybe a part of me is scared to ask why they didn’t that, wasn't I just like them... pretty?

In Pakistan, I see so many girls facing what I faced. I see the comments, the constant comparisons, the way beauty is measured in skin color, straight teeth, and a certain body type. I see how people think it’s okay to tell a little girl that she won’t be beautiful, or worthy of love, or marriage, just because of her color, weight, height, behaviour, teeth… blah blah blah, unless she changes herself.

Why do we teach little girls to fix themselves before they even know who they are?

Why do we act as if beauty is a checklist that someone else gets to mark?

Why do some aunties here make sure to make a young girl know how to design herself to be worthy of love?

Why do they always make a comparison like It doesn’t hurt us?

Why do they make sure to imprint their perception of beauty in our brains?

To every girl reading this, I want to say:

Smile as you want, not as others want.

Your worth isn’t measured in shades, shapes, or sizes. It’s in the light you carry inside, and the way you let it shine.

And to anyone who has ever been mocked for something they were born with, remember: your reflection doesn’t need their approval. Your beauty was never theirs to define.

So keep reminding yourself: you are loved the way you look, talk or walk, even if not by others, but By Yourself!