The universe conspired to give my mom the best of both worlds when she had two beautiful baby girls just two years apart. I was born a mestiza while my younger sister looked like a little Chinese doll. When we were younger, people have often hinted that we must have different fathers since we looked nothing alike. That didn’t bother us much because we liked looking different. It was fun when we told people we were sisters and see their faces look at us in disbelief.
Fast-forward to me being 24 and my sister being 22. It was not uncommon for us to go out on a Saturday night together because I was always the shy one. I never made any friends outside of school because I was always terrified of meeting other people.
My sister is the exact opposite. She was outgoing and fun. She had witty comebacks and jokes and was never ashamed to say that she was a little ditzy. It doesn’t help that she stands at 5’4”, weighs a hundred pounds, used to model, knows how to put on makeup, and can belt out Beyoncé.
I, on the other hand, am tiny. I’m 4’11” with a hefty weight of 150 pounds. I’m sure I have a good personality because otherwise, my friends wouldn’t stay as long as they have.
So imagine my self-esteem when we go out on a Saturday night. She can wear whatever she wants and look fine. And because I am nothing like her, I will resort to wearing the thing I can find in my closet. She puts on her foundation and eye shadow and all those makeup things while all I could manage to do was a tinted lip balm. My sister tries to put makeup on me but I sweat in a matter of seconds so I just wipe it all off before we leave the house.
When we get to wherever we’re going, the boys flock to her. And I’m just sitting there trying to insert myself into their conversations. The boys are not subtle when it comes to flirting with her and she just rides it like a pro. So we drink and we dance and we laugh and then we head home.
She then proceeds to tell me that this guy’s texting her and I’m just sitting there thinking, “You got two numbers and I’m sitting here staring at my phone hoping someone would send me a message on Facebook so it’ll look like I’m interesting, too.” But instead I tell her, “Was that the guy in red? Yeah, he looked cute.”
I look like I’ve got my shit together, but my self-esteem is shattered.
I love her to bits and wish I could be a little bit like her.
Every day I look in the mirror and think “Wow, I think I lost a little weight. I look good today.” And then she stands beside me and every beautiful thing I have said to myself disappears.
This is what it’s like to be the less attractive sister.