As usual, I got into an argument with my mother as soon as I woke up today. Talk about the worst way to start a supposed-to-be-good Saturday and like magic—bam! It just ruined the whole day like a messed up puzzle no one cares to fix. If I could, I wouldn’t want to argue with the woman who I love and idolize in my entire life but I came to the point where I got no choice.
The reason for our mother-daughter argument was that I refused to follow my parents out—like how obedient my younger sister has been. They were pretty upset because I refused to be with the family whenever they went out and preferred to stay home, doing nothing but to get bored and later complained about it to my self. Perhaps, my lowly social skills influenced the thought of going out with my family.
But no; the reason why I always refuse to go out with my family is because I hate to be compared to my thin-figure, beautiful, tall younger sister by anyone around us whenever we go out. I hate to hear my parents’ friends say “oh my, the younger sister is looking beautiful but the elder sister is so short and chubby” all the time. I endured it at first and tried to be proud to be having one beautiful younger sister—but as time goes by, it got painful. I have to mend my heart alone whenever I heard those words and most of the time, I forced my self to play deaf and pretended as if never happened—although it really did happened.
I admitted that I am not thin—I am quite chubby. I have to say that I am the shortest in my family when my sisters are tall and beautiful with their fair complexions whereas I am a bit tanned. It hurt to be my self whenever I go out with my family because people always talked about this obvious comparison between my sisters and me. I got hurt but nobody—even my parents—seemed to care about. I lock my self in our house so that I could stand in front of my mirror and confidently tell my self—girl, you are beautiful the way you are when you are alone but whenever you have your sisters around, you are invincible.
I have no grudge against my sisters for being beautiful when I am not but I hate to have people compare me to them because it hurt my pride. It will be better if I stay at home rather than standing among the people who talk about my appearances more than what I am able to do.
I am sorry I have to hurt my parents for choosing solitude rather than the quality time with our family—but I can’t stand the prejudice. I rather am my self when I am alone rather than to feel suffocated by the comparisons I have to hear and see whenever I am with my sisters. As much as I love my sisters, it hurt so much, I want to hate them.
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