Sister – beauty
My sister had a reputation for her beauty. She inherited strong and straight, long limbs from our grandfather. Her oval face was considered to be the ideal shape of Japanese beauty. Her skin tone was milky, and even though she had acne on her cheeks, her long-lashed, double-lidded eyes and thick, strong-willed brows obscured a minor flaw. When she smiled, people said she looked like the popular actress of the time.
She was gregarious, vivacious, and curious. She’d strike a conversation easily and attract boys of boys’ high schools who took the same train in the morning.
I resembled my sister in some ways, enough for people to acknowledge we were sisters, but I was, so to say, an avant-garde art version of my sister – one had to appreciate the beauty in peculiarity. My limbs ceased to grow at the age of 12. I got from my father his square jawline, the least desirable shape for Japanese women. My skin was a few tones darker than the standard Japanese women, and boys called me in a racial slur for black people. My monolid eyes had a hint of lethargy, and my lips were perpetually pressed in downward crescent.
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