So I should really be writing a philosophy paper right now.
(Sorry, Dr. M)
Instead, I need to write something that’s been on my mind this past weekend.
I will be writing about one of my sisters, as usual.
Only this time, she’s the biological one.
I’ll admit, I’ve been jealous of her on more than one occasion.
Y’all, the child is skinny, blonde, and gorgeous.
I honestly thought that she had this whole life thing made.
“What’s she got to feel bad about?” I thought.
Well, this weekend, I learned.
Yesterday it was hot as mess.
I, studying for a religion midterm, stayed in my pajama shorts all day, and didn’t put on shoes until I left my house.
The Princess, however, has an abundance of “friends” (I never know which one she’s friends with on what day) who come to our door on the daily.
On her way out the door, she put on her clunky tennis shoes. (Originally bought for me, but they fit her better, don’t ask)
Mama said, “Why don’t you wear flip flops?”
She replied, “My feet are embarrassing, and I don’t want my friends to see them.”
The Princess has eczema on her hands and feet, but it’s not that bad.
Not bad enough for you to notice unless you lay on the ground and stare at her feet, which is weird.
Then, later on, she asked Mama if she could give herself and mani-pedi.
“I want to take the attention off of my “foot boo-boos””
It made me so sad.
This child, who is seemingly perfect, and acts like she’s got it all together, is self-conscious about her feet.
At nine, I was still pretty happy with my body and who I was.
Ten was a different story, but nine, I was cool with life.
It makes me sad to see my baby sister so scared of being made fun of for something we think is so silly.
But it’s real for her.
There is something SERIOUSLY wrong with our society that the nine-year-old can’t go outside for fear of being made fun of.
I wish I knew what to say to her to make it all better, but to this day, I still struggle with some of my demons–having curly hair, being curvy, and not wearing makeup everyday is socially unacceptable.
The only hope I can offer her (and Mama) is that Wesleyan changes things.
Yeah, initially she will want to fit in or hide in the “crowd” but eventually she will find people who encourage her “weirdness” to come out.
And it will be beautiful.
Pssst, Mama, only nine more years 😉
So today, tell a girl she’s beautiful, 9 or 89, because they are.