wearing overly tight clothes and unnecessary cosmetics are two things they are not big fans of.
“Probably. You don’t need it anyway…you lucked out with the really dark eyelashes,” she said as she ran a brush through her uncommonly long, blonde hair.
As is most often the case, Jillian is right. I have this kind of light Mediterranean skin coloring, and my eyelashes are so dark it looks like I already have mascara on. So according to my parents, essentially all makeup falls into the unnecessary category for me. My sister, however, is allowed some light mascara and blush, although she practically never wears either. She and I share one physical trait and that’s our eye color. We both have brown eyes flecked with gold and green, and we get that unusual mix from our dad. I’ll have to check the little box next to brown or hazel when I get my driver’s license in January, even though neither of those are really right, but whatever.
Now I’m not conceited, but I’ve been called beautiful my entire life so I don’t really worry about my looks, I’ve just taken everyone’s word for it and left it at that. I think I’ll blend in okay, though, and be able to make friends in time, but I think Jill’s looks will eventually cause problems for her. Most girls will probably be jealous of her, and not just because she’s so smart, which she is—scary smart. But the fact is, boys are going to swarm around her like bees on steroids. Seriously. If you want a good idea of what Jillian will look like when she’s sixteen, just picture Malibu Barbie.
Physically, Jillian and I aren’t all that similar, especially with the difference in complexion, hair and backside. Her—truthfully—slightly wavy, light blonde hair stretches all the way past her cute, perky butt and she has the good fortune of being able to tan amazingly well for being so blonde, just like our mom. I mean I can tan really well, too, but I’m not blonde like she is, so it makes her stand out even more. Anyway, I’m about 5’6” and she’s around 5’4” or 5’5”, but I think she’ll end up being a little taller than me when we’re done growing. And at the rate she’s going, I bet her boobs will be bigger than mine as well. Seriously, the next time you’re in Target, go look at the Barbie dolls…
“I know, but I’m afraid I’m already gonna stick out like a sore thumb. I was thinking maybe if I wear a little makeup, I won’t feel so out of place.”
“Well whatever, it’s your funeral. I don’t think you should upset Mom though,” Jill said bluntly, this being one of those times she’s chosen to be direct, which she does from time to time. I guess I shouldn’t complain though; I find her cryptic mode of communication even more irritating.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Again. “Are you nervous?”
“No. Honestly, I’m afraid I’ll be bored outta my skull. I wish Mom and Dad would’ve let me go into ninth grade like I placed.” She sounds totally exasperated—and for good reason.
You see, one of the problems with going into the public school system after being homeschooled your whole life is the likelihood you won’t really be taught anything you don’t already know, because when you’re homeschooled, you tend to learn more at an earlier age and at a faster pace than the kids who are educated traditionally. And trust me when I say that my mom has given us a very thorough education up to this point. In fact, you’ll probably find that I lean towards using a vernacular that is more often than not, non-standard in relation to the majority of my peers. More simply put, I know a lot of big words and I like using them. However, I do understand that regardless of their years on this earth, not everyone understands what the hell I’m saying when I feel so inclined as to demonstrate my extensive vocabulary, so, I try making a concerted effort to be understood by toning it down in my everyday speech and talking like everyone else
“Probably. You don’t need it anyway…you lucked out with the really dark eyelashes,” she said as she ran a brush through her uncommonly long, blonde hair.
As is most often the case, Jillian is right. I have this kind of light Mediterranean skin coloring, and my eyelashes are so dark it looks like I already have mascara on. So according to my parents, essentially all makeup falls into the unnecessary category for me. My sister, however, is allowed some light mascara and blush, although she practically never wears either. She and I share one physical trait and that’s our eye color. We both have brown eyes flecked with gold and green, and we get that unusual mix from our dad. I’ll have to check the little box next to brown or hazel when I get my driver’s license in January, even though neither of those are really right, but whatever.
Now I’m not conceited, but I’ve been called beautiful my entire life so I don’t really worry about my looks, I’ve just taken everyone’s word for it and left it at that. I think I’ll blend in okay, though, and be able to make friends in time, but I think Jill’s looks will eventually cause problems for her. Most girls will probably be jealous of her, and not just because she’s so smart, which she is—scary smart. But the fact is, boys are going to swarm around her like bees on steroids. Seriously. If you want a good idea of what Jillian will look like when she’s sixteen, just picture Malibu Barbie.
Physically, Jillian and I aren’t all that similar, especially with the difference in complexion, hair and backside. Her—truthfully—slightly wavy, light blonde hair stretches all the way past her cute, perky butt and she has the good fortune of being able to tan amazingly well for being so blonde, just like our mom. I mean I can tan really well, too, but I’m not blonde like she is, so it makes her stand out even more. Anyway, I’m about 5’6” and she’s around 5’4” or 5’5”, but I think she’ll end up being a little taller than me when we’re done growing. And at the rate she’s going, I bet her boobs will be bigger than mine as well. Seriously, the next time you’re in Target, go look at the Barbie dolls…
“I know, but I’m afraid I’m already gonna stick out like a sore thumb. I was thinking maybe if I wear a little makeup, I won’t feel so out of place.”
“Well whatever, it’s your funeral. I don’t think you should upset Mom though,” Jill said bluntly, this being one of those times she’s chosen to be direct, which she does from time to time. I guess I shouldn’t complain though; I find her cryptic mode of communication even more irritating.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Again. “Are you nervous?”
“No. Honestly, I’m afraid I’ll be bored outta my skull. I wish Mom and Dad would’ve let me go into ninth grade like I placed.” She sounds totally exasperated—and for good reason.
You see, one of the problems with going into the public school system after being homeschooled your whole life is the likelihood you won’t really be taught anything you don’t already know, because when you’re homeschooled, you tend to learn more at an earlier age and at a faster pace than the kids who are educated traditionally. And trust me when I say that my mom has given us a very thorough education up to this point. In fact, you’ll probably find that I lean towards using a vernacular that is more often than not, non-standard in relation to the majority of my peers. More simply put, I know a lot of big words and I like using them. However, I do understand that regardless of their years on this earth, not everyone understands what the hell I’m saying when I feel so inclined as to demonstrate my extensive vocabulary, so, I try making a concerted effort to be understood by toning it down in my everyday speech and talking like everyone else
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