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Art Colony: my little sister
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
› by victoria
taking a time out from what has to be some of the most incompetent studying i have ever done in my life (but this is a math class, what can you expect?), I felt a call to write about my younger sister.
my younger sister is a character. She was born raising hell and looking like a very small, ugly red monkey. She was a hideous toddler and gap-toothed ugly small child (I don't feel bad saying this, because she always said that I had a "Big Butt," called me "slugchild" as a nickname growing up, and until I met Biff [who countered her claims of appearance superiority in my family] she was always the "prettiest one" in our family). she liked to be grimy, in that disgusting way that only small children can be, with their patina of sweat and grime. The fact that she is two years younger than me, and I remember being grossed-out by how nasty she could be, is a testament to grossitude.
Mudpies and endless backseat violence. We used to have a chevy station wagon and there was a middle seatbelt in the backseat. When we weren't pretending it was a videogame controller (our parents didn't let us have videogames, you see--something i was furious about at the time, but I'm grateful for now), she was bashing me with it.
She wouldn't wear socks, or shoes. One time my mom bought her these purple suede Hush Puppy flats that she wore without socks for an entire summer. They smelled (and looked) like dumpster relics. She liked to dig big holes in the backyard, run around naked rather than take baths, and scare the shit out of me for fun.
We only really got along when we were planning something bad. Being compatriots in crime made us get along like 2 smoothly running cogs in a machine. Our rebellious plots to spend the night outside, camped in a bushel basket that we had hoisted up into the branches of the cherry tree: our ideas about starting a lemonade stand; building a secret fort in the attic of the garage: being Star Wars fans: all were secret plots against the wishes of my mother. We used to wear the chamois that were supposed to be for washing the car and pretend to be cavemen in the backyard.
As my younger sister got older and we returned to public school, she gained a lot of friends (being as she was the soul of hellraising & ruckus-making incarnate--fond as she was of yelling "PENIS! BREAST!" and any other inane, possibly offensive terminology really loudly as we played badminton in the backyard). About 90% of the time, her friends liked me more than they liked her, which was a very sore subject. Ouches! the fights we used to get in over this one. She started to discover beauty products, and braces. She got herself a boyfriend in 6th grade, whom we'll call "Brian" because that's his name. Brian had a best friend, named Steve, and they were always hanging around, a bizarre tricycle of friends. It was a bit of a troubled adolescence, as we found out later when my younger sister had to go to counseling and such...anyways, Brian & her were inseperable. Then they broke up. Then they got back together again. Then something really bad happened and the break up was REALLY BAD.
Anyways, i just remembered that i might know some people in actual, every-day, living-in-life who might read this and I wouldn't want to offend their sensibilities...anyways, so my younger sister ended up marrying her 6th grade crush and becoming fairly damn pretty despite early predictions that she would end up looking like a troll doll.
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