I’m from a family of all girls. Those of you who know me in real life know that my three sisters are my best buds. We’re eerily close, get together on the regular, and agree about everything. It’s not normal. Matt will attest to that – when we’re discussing contentious subjects, it ends up with us shouting “YES I AGREE!” “YES, AGREE LOUDER!” “SO AGREE!” at each other.
But don’t let our creepy-sister-hive-mind fool you – we fought when we were kids, a lot. Scratching, spitting, slapping, journal-reading, name-calling, hair-pulling – we were holy terrors to each other.
Most of the time, the sister fights would be limited to sparing pairs. I’d fight with Laura, since we were the youngins’, and my older sisters would fight with each other. Only very rarely did a four-sister fight occur, and when it did, it was about clothing. While there’s a bit of a gap in between my older sister and my youngest one, for a brief time, we all fell in somewhere in the pre-teen/teenage category. It was in this window that the Battle of the Black Tank Top (like the Battle of Blackwater, but more intense) took place. The stakes were pretty high: I mean, how could I wear my American Eagle hoodie without the GOOD black tank top? While we all had black tank tops of our own, we evenutally lost track of whose was whose, and thusly held different ideas about who laid claim to the GOOD stretchy medium one with adjustable straps. As we yelled and screeched along hallways and across slammed doors, it’s a marvel my dad didn’t just flip over the dinner table Alan Rickman style and say “Nope, I’m done. Sons or bust.”
Despite episodes like this one, I never really wanted brothers. That said, I always assumed I would have fought less with a brother. I mean, sisters steal clothes from each other, but brothers? Naaaah.
…Wrong. The last three shirts I’ve thrifted (included the denim Gap one I’m wearing in these photos) are men’s. My collection of men’s plaid shirts is growing at a steady rate, and Matt has explicitly banned me from wearing any of his clothing. And let’s talk about my new boots: gorgeous, leather, made in Brazil, scored at The Edit for $40 – and, Jentine guesses, likely men’s as welll. If a black tank top brought on a sibling-wide battle, boots like these would have prompted an all-out war.
Geez, just think the carnage! I I think I’ll keep my sisters, thanks.
Sidenote: Does anyone else remember the game from which this post takes its title? It was SO AWFUL! And I played it SO SO SO MUCH! With the slowest internet connection known to man! Oh, internet, you leave us so many treasures.