Givin' it Up

I gave up shopping for Lent. Did I tell you that? I did. I used to be a SHOP-A-HOLIC. Honestly. I would just shop, shop, shop, shop, shop. I scaled back a little after college, and then SERIOUSLY scaled back when I moved to Connecticut because, let's be honest, making less than $20,000/year and putting yourself through graduate school while managing to not default on any loans and still contribute to a retirement account does NOT exactly leave a lot of money leftover in the budget.

AT ALL.

When Lent came around I thought about giving up dessert (HA!), or drinking (HA!HA!) or even diet coke, but shopping seemed like a more reasonably option. It would save me some money, I really don't NEED anything, and it would be kind of easy.

My sister, M, Sister 2 is basically the exact opposite of me. Well, we're either exactly the same or exactly opposite. Does that make sense?

We're opposite in regards to shopping.

I do.

She doesn't.

So when we ventured out this weekend on a little shopping spree, me to celebrate lent being over and having a real job lined up for the fall and her to celebrate ordering a vacation to West Palm and getting it, I didn't know what to expect.

Well...shop we did. For two days. It was amazing. We had so much fun and our friend D joined us and we were all in dressing rooms at the same time laughing, trying on clothes, gossiping, it was just like a scene out of a movie.

Sister 2 had a "look" she was going for in particular so the latter part of our shopping experience was trying to find white jeans. We looked at Gap and J Crew but didn't find anything with fit she was looking for.

We decided to try Banana Republic on our way home. In the back of the store they had a stack of 7 pairs of white jeans. We held them up. She didn't love them but I encouraged her to try them on.

She tried them on, turning from left to right, she wondered if they were too see-through. She stepped out of the dressing room to look in the large mirror. A woman was waiting for her daughter to try some things on and glanced up, "those look wonderful on you," she said, "what size are you?"

Sister 2 looked down at the tag, "Oh. 26waist, 00."

REALLY. a DOUBLE ZERO. HONEST TO GOD.

We stood in line to buy the jeans and we left with them in a small shopping bag.

That would have fit ONE pair of my underwear.

Not Sister 2 though. She got a whole dang pair of jeans in there.

If I didn't like her so much, I'd REALLY hate her.

Next Weekend

I have babysitting jobs lined up for the next few weekends but a family asked me to babysit for the ENTIRE weekend next weekend. I have a test and another commitment so I asked my sister if she was interested in helping me out.

Her response?

"Oh! Next weekend?!? I'd love to! but... J" (the NON boyfriend...), "and I are heading to West Palm Beach! You should come!"

Uhhhhhhhh. REALLY?!?!?

Oh My God, Becky? Look at THAT Butt

I know, the sister stories are getting a little old. Some of you have expressed concern that she might read this blog? I assure you, my sister has ZERO interest in my blog. She doesn't even find me THAT funny in real life (I know, I can't imagine either) she wouldn't waste her time reading my nonfunniness in her free time. Trust me.

Last week my sister borrowed one of my dresses. I don't mind sharing my clothes at all, it looked great on her, which- - quite frankly- - I was shocked about because, let's remember. She's a 00 and barely breaks 100 SOAKING WET.

We always choose our outfits the night before. It really suits our TOTAL TYPE A personalities well and saves time in the morning. So... last night she comes prancing out of the bedroom in another one of my dresses. I didn't KNOW she was in there trying my clothes on, but being the sweet, patient, EASYGOING, older sister that I am, I say,

"Wow! M! That looks great!"

And she turned to the left.

Turned to the right.

Smoothed the skirt.

Checked her babelicious self out in the full-length.

I continued, "and it's supposed to be warm tomorrow! So that's perfect!"

She turned towards me.

Crinkled her nose. And says, "Oh, GOD. I would NEVER wear this to school! I mean... look at it! It's so... BIG!"

She takes her little witch fingers and pulls at the cotton top, "I mean, it's like... so SAGGY. I could NEVER wear this to school. It's too LOOSE. I mean..." she turns sideways and fluffs up the "loose" fabric, "it's just. TOO BIG. Don't you THINK!??! It's TOO BIG for school?!? I could NEVER wear this to school! Look at it! I mean, it's just kind of HANGS off of me. I was thinking that I could wear it Friday. To the casino."

I really was at a loss for words, so I simply said, "Oh, M! Of course! That will be perfect for the casino..." I hear they LIKE. BIG. BAGGY. SAGGY. Dresses there!

Her response? "Yea... maybe. Or I could just wear jeans and a t-shirt. That's really, my thing anyway."

Oh... jeans a t-shirt? Of course. Because WHY ELSE WOULD YOU TRY ON MY DRESS THAT'S QUITE OBVIOUSLY TOOOOOOO BIG FOR YOU!?!?!??! SO YOU COULD WEAR JEANS AND A T SHIRT!?!??!?!

Apparently.

A word for the wise to any skinny girls out there reading this. When your friends/sisters/coworkers graciously share their clothes with you. Don't make any comments about how ill they fit.

k?thanksbye.

smooches,
The FatAss Older Sister

When She Says Jump I Say, "How High"

I went to bed a little grumpy thinking, "Hey! Tomorrow's a new day! Things will look up!

This morning? Was a disaster. I'm innocently straightening my hair in the bathroom when I hear, "M...mgpurd jdpudhd, gudhs."

"What? I can't hear you!" I responded.

Sister: "There's a SPIDER in HERE and I need HELP. I STILL can't SEE. My EYES AREN'T ADJUSTED YET."

Me: "Okay." I pick up some tissues and head into the bedroom. "Where is it?"

Her: Standing on the bed with shoes on her hands. "Right THERE."

And... there it is. All 2" and 8 legs of it. It's sick.

Me: "Okay..." I kneel down to get closer to the spider that is on the floor and my sister hands me a boot. The spider, however, is too close to the wall/corner for me to make a successful WHACK.

We push the bed over, move the nightstand and my sister hands me a bottle of windex to spray it. I'm armed with windex and the boot and lean closer.

SPRAY SPRAY SPRAY!

The spider takes OFF RUNNING! AND JUMPING! AND ZIGZAGGING TRYING TO FAKE ME OUT. There's a FRENZY in the bedroom with me hovering over the spider with a boot and windex and my sister, standing on the bed, yelling, "GET IT! GET IT!"

It stops. IN THE CORNER.

Damn it.

I asked my sister to get me a cup. A place the cup around the spider and drag it out into the middle of the floor so I can have more room to work. The spider, not liking this in the least, starts CRAWLING UP the GLASS and JUMPING AGAINST IT. I'm NOT even kidding... I could feel the vibrations from it jumping. Again. sick.

I lift the edge of the cup up EVER SO SLIGHTLY to see if it's going to move.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" My sister screams.

I freak out, push the cup down and look up, "WHAT?!?!!?"

Her: "THERE'S ANOTHER ONE!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

I look to where she's pointing. There is... a MAYBE pinkie fingernail sized spider on the wall. Personally, I would have left it. My sister? No way. Takes a boot to that thing like it's her job and SMEARS it on the wall. No joke. She SMEARED a spider on the wall. I look at her, totally annoyed and she responds, "Yea. That's just what I DO. I can clean it later if its bugging you that much."

Bugging me? Psssshaw! I *love* spider guts on the wall.

I don't even respond because if I did? I would have kicked her ass right there before school.

Now we have spider guts on the wall and Mt. Everest of a spider underneath the cup. Good morning, it's my lucky freakin' day.

I, once again, slowly tip the cup up and expose the spider enough for me to WHACK it. I did and it curled into a ball. I hit it again. Was that enough for my deranged sister? Of course not.

She starts yelling directions:

"You've got to MUSH IT! MUSH IT! WIPE IT! TWIST THE BOOT. IT'S NOT DEAD UNTIL THE BODY COMES APART AND THE LEGS FALL OFF! IT'S JUST FAKING YOU OUT! GET IT! GET IT! RUB IT IN! RUB IT IN!"

When the spider was dead enough for her liking she instructed me to pick it up and flush it down the toilet.

Then, she hands me a bottle of spider spray my Dad had sent and says, "I read the directions. It looks easy enough."

I just looked at her.

THEN. THEN. On the WAY TO SCHOOL. She looks over at me and says, "Yea, are you Grumpy today or something? What's your deal?!?"

She was serious.

I had no words.