Tale of a Former Twin

10 Jul

I had a twin – well sort of. Her name is Erica and she is the best sister I could have ever asked for.

If you’ve met my sister, you know that she is the sweetest, crazy mofo you’ve ever met in your life. We’re only 2 years apart, but we spent so much time together as youngins’, we may as well have been twins. Our mom dressed us the same, we were always in the same activities, we had joint birthdays (our birthdays are 8 days (and 2 years) apart), people called us by the other name by mistake, etc. We were practically inseparable.

Until…Erica decided that she wanted a separate birthday party. And she didn’t want to do ballet with me. And she didn’t want the same shirt in a different color. She didn’t want the same shirt at all. And she grew 2 inches taller than me. Jerk.

She just *had* to be different and I was jealous. I had always assumed my identity along with hers. She was strong enough to break away from the pack and “do her own thang.” [::Insert sassy ‘z-snap’ here::] I didn’t have anyone to affirm that what I was doing was super cool and awesome because I was the big sister. She did softball and listened to hard rock and punched boys at school (ok, maybe just one boy who was being a real dick). She was a bad ass and I wanted to be a bad ass too. How the turn tables…

I am almost albino and she has olive-colored skin. I went to a tech school and she went to a liberal arts school. I want to live in the Midwest and she is livin’ it up on the East Coast. I’m an undercover hipster and she is one glamorous S.O.B.  I didn’t know we were going to turn out so different. We’re sisters, right?

As we’ve grown older, we’ve come to love a lot of the same things: puppies, music, quoting movies, clothes, etc. We value similar qualities in the friends that we make and can always have a good time together (after we pass the initial “butting heads” stage). We call each other for support and leave silly voice messages to each other. I swear I shouldn’t listen to them in public – people think I’m bursting out laughing for no reason. We have the best inside jokes (the Samoas box in Dad’s truck; “Is that John Stamos?”).

I think the quality that I value most in my sister is her ability to not give a flying f*ck. She knows what she’s good at and goes for it. She can work a room better than any of the Kardashians (well, maybe that’s not a fair comparison – anyone can do anything better than the Kardashians. BOOM. Kardashian bash!). She has more confidence in her left pinkie finger than I could muster up with any amount of “liquid courage”.

She is my sister and I wouldn’t be the same without her.

And yes, that is John Stamos.

Is that Jon Stamos?


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