Sisters

Sisters. I have two. As the oldest child, I feel particularly protective of them. Maybe its because I have no older siblings to go to bat for me, or maybe its just because we are siblings. I love them both.

Since I am the oldest child and the span between myself and my brother is pretty big, I've had the unique experience of watching them grow up and, for the youngest two, remembering all of it.

Because of the situation surrounding our births, there is a fascinating phenomenon with the personalities of my sisters. I am very clearly the oldest, Justin is very clearly the youngest and the only boy. In the middle, though, it gets blurry. Sylvee is both the middle child and the youngest, Talia is the middle child and the oldest. So they picked up traits from each side.

Sylvee is generally the most easy going. She is like our mom, dreamy, creative, non confrontational. She will make an amazing stay at home mom, though knowing Sylvee she will start a business from home and strike it rich. She is probably the quietest of us all, and is often the one that slips through the cracks. There are times in my life that I wondered if she still lived with us, such is her way of just slipping quietly off and doing her own thing.

Talia is a firecracker wrapped in a cute little girl with freckles. She has attitude cleverly hidden up her sleeve, but always ready to crack out and bite you. I've been eagerly waiting her teenage years since she turned two, because I knew I would be out of the house and in a perfect place to observe my parents attempting to handle the whirling dervish. She is smart, driven, and passionate, like me, but where my gumption is on full display, hers is discretely wrapped in candy coating.

I can't say I ever fought with any of my siblings. I credit the age gap of the younger two and Sylvee's congeniality for that. No, I would say the thing I regret is the fact that, growing up, I ignored them. I didn't fight with them, but I didn't spend time with them either. It has been almost 4 years since I left home (time flies!) and they are all growing up without me.

Now I see my two sisters staring down at some pretty heavy duty obstacles, and my protective instinct rears its fearsome head. The truth of the matter is that I am powerless to help them. And, frankly, they don't really need my help. They have become two strong, beautiful young women and they are armed to the teeth to do battle with their trials. You can thank my parents for that, they have done a wonderful job of raising us to be strong and independent.

There is nothing in the world like a sister. I adore my baby brother, don't get me wrong, but the way I feel about him is completely different than the way I feel about my sisters.

I love them very much.

Hair!

Today, my little sister got married. She was radiant, everything went extremely well, and even though there was some stress involved, all in all it was a beautiful celebration of family, friends, and love.

This was also the first wedding ceremony I have been to since Eric and I got married, and seeing Sylvee and Jack's love made me fall even more in love with my amazing husband!

However, there was something brought to my attention today that I think is very important. It involves being a girl in the midst of puberty and being a teenager, and also hair.

My hair is curly. That is an understatement. My hair is fine, but there is a lot of it. And if you just add some water, it turns into these teeny, tiny ringlets. A billion of them!

I love my hair. I love playing around with it, I love sproinging my curls. This love, however, is a very recent thing. It wasn't until I was about 17 or 18 when I realised that I love my hair. Up until then, I HATED it. LOATHED it.

Today, I found my 12 year old sister in distress about her hair. Her hair is fine like mine, and mostly straight but if you get it wet and add a little water it gets really wavy. Very cute. But, here she is, sitting in the bathroom, crying because she, like the millions of 12 year old girls before her, hates her hair.

Of course, this is about so, so, so much more than hair. This is about young women everywhere struggling to love themselves. This is about body image, self esteem. This is about giving these young girls the gift of confidence. Loving yourself means so much. Without first loving and accepting ourselves, we can't truly share our love for others. Without that good self image, we resort to things that are destructive. I was 12 when my eating disorder began, and unfortunately that is a very common time for that disorder to manifest itself.

Young women, and some young men, are dying because they can't figure out how to love themselves. They are dying because they think they are fat and ugly. And, it isn't much of a stretch to say that sometimes, they are dying because they hate their hair.

I challenge you all to find one thing about your physical appearance that you dislike, and figure out a way to accept it, and perhaps even admire it. No changing it, just accepting whatever it is exactly the way it is. And, if you are a parent of a young woman, I would encourage you to talk about body image with her. And, whenever possible, tell yourself, your daughter, or even a stranger, how much you love their hair.