Kinnon Rockness

Professor Thompson

Art Survey

7 September 2020

Beauty

“Wow! Your sister is so gorgeous!” I hear these words all the time. My five sisters each possess

very different physical and character traits, all contributing to their beauty. Cassandra has a head of

golden curls, olive skin, and long, dark eyelashes. She has an optimistic, bubbly personality. Courtney

has long brunette hair, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose, and piercing blue eyes. She has a warm

heart and cares deeply for those around her. Kailie can be spotted by her brown curls and big, cheerful

smile. Her sense of humor can fill a room with laughter in minutes. Ciarra’s bleach blonde hair and

slender figure make her stand out in a crowd. She is always calm, relaxed, and confident. Karli, the

youngest, has big, blue eyes that can brighten anyone’s day. She has an intelligence and maturity that

goes beyond her years. Over time, I have admired and watched as my sisters developed into the

beautiful young women they are today. However, there have been times when this view of my sisters

has turned into something unhealthy. I often see their beauty and begin to compare theirs to my own. I

wish I had Cassandra’s round nose instead of my pointy one. I desire to have long, toned legs like

Ciarra’s. For a long time, I saw my sisters’ beauty as much greater than my own. Sometimes, I still feel

this way.

Not very long ago, I found myself in a situation and all these feelings came to surface. In high

school, my parents were always monitoring to make sure my sisters and I dressed modestly. There have

been a few instances where I have been told to change into something more appropriate. I never push
back on this and respect the opinions of my parents. Usually, I can see where they are coming from and I

am thankful for their input. While I was at home from college, I made the observation that my younger

sister was going out in an outfit similar to one I had been told not to wear. I asked my mother about it

and was told flippantly that my sister looked fine. This did not sit right with me, and later that night I

decided to confront my mother about this. I told her that I felt as though she was being inconsistent and

unfair. She responded by saying, “I’m not trying to be unfair… but there are some things that she can get

away with wearing because she is built in a different way than you.” These words cut into me like a

knife. The knife continued to stab as she pointed out how my sister had a much different personality

than my own: she is less flirty and outgoing. She explained to me how my sister’s reserved and quiet

personality contributed to the perceived motive of her wearing the outfit. Rather than understanding

and trying to conceptualize this, I felt labeled and misunderstood. I had no way to explain this to my

mother, so I simply sobbed and managed to stutter the words, “This hurts. This really, really hurts.” My

mother was simply trying to be honest and convey her reasoning, but it came at the expense of my

feelings. Instead of seeing the validity in her argument, which I typically do, I found myself broken over

the comparison she made between my sister and me.

I had made these same comparisons hundreds of times before. As stated previously, I have

always envied certain features of my sisters’. But when my mother spoke these words, the comparisons

became real. These were no longer the voices in my head. The differences between our physical and

character traits are noticeable and have had an affect on how others perceive us. This idea began to

take over my mind. For a long period of time, I observed the interactions between my siblings and our

shared friends. I began to focus on tiny differences in the way that my parents treated us. I became

skeptical and started to second guess my actions. In social settings, I let others take the role as “life of

the party.” When I got dressed for the day, I noticed every part of my body that had a bit of excess fat. I

was always concerned about the way that people saw and thought of me.
 In all honesty, I am still broken. I am still healing from this wound. I continue to look at my

sisters and envy their beauty. However, I am beginning to understand that my own beauty comes from

being the person God made me to be. He is not a God of mistakes, so it is no coincidence that I look and

act the way that I do. It takes a conscious effort to keep this in mind. Instead of hating my high forehead,

I can find beauty in the faint splash of freckles that cover it. Rather than being ashamed of my sassy

attitude, I can appreciate the lighthearted conversations that have come out of it. These are the traits

that God has blessed me with, and I am learning to embrace them. At the same time, I am learning to

change my view of my sisters. When I observe the features that make them beautiful, I use this to

compliment them. These compliments may not be taken to heart, but I can almost guarantee that they

have gone through some form of what I have faced. I only hope that this cultivates healthier

relationships between us and enhances their views of their own beauty. God created each of us in our

own unique way, and I am learning to be thankful for that. Over time, I have learned that beauty is

accepting who God created you to be, inside and out. It is appreciating and embracing the beauty of

those around you. Beauty is noticing the differences but choosing to love those differences.