My Lie In Pictures: Sibling Rivalry

I mentioned two posts ago that I wanted to start creating posts that were smaller in content and didn't necessarily end in a macguffin. I had hoped that these posts would be insightful. Inspirational. Engaging. Provocative. Honest. Instead I wrote a post about Missed Connections and now I'm going to lie to you about my relationship with my sister via fifteen photo captions. HOW WILD!

Three years ago, my mother made the thoughtful mistake of giving me four volumes of pictures to catalogue my life achievements in breathing as a gift for graduating from undergrad. 

These are the lies I made up about them.

>>CLICK ME FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT<<

I started my life as a true American butterball turkey patriot:
pledging my allegiance and looking like a regal buttered
baked potato. I was an instant hit, but there was a darkness looming.
ROYAL FAMILY: IF YOU'RE READING THIS PLEASE CHECK YOUR RECORDS TO ENSURE YOU DID NOT LOSE AN INFANT IN 1989.

That darkness was my sister's disgust at my sudden rise to glory.

You see, my sister was always trying to steal the spotlight that was rightfully mine when I stole her only child status and came on the scene as the adorable younger sibling. This was the moment she realized she became Gretchen Weiners.

She was always jealous of me, always trying to steal my pizza and punt me out of my own photoshoots. Sidenote: Actual photograph of me running from a ghost hanging on a door knob. Because
non-creepypasta decor was so 1989.

Show me the meaning of being lonely.

Everything was going fine until my first birthday. See her creepy little hand trying to cop of a feel of my chocolate cake? Like I wouldn't notice? Well, I wasn't about to let her and her bug eyes steal my spotlight. No, that wouldn't do at all.

So I bit her. I bit her in the face. That's definitely not spaghetti sauce.

A few years later, my sister's face had grown back and I repented by taking the backseat to fame. I allowed my mother Tammi to dress me in trash bags or possibly leftover wrapping paper for Halloween while she called me "Fantasia" like some common street vendor. Meanwhile, my sister proudly wore a handmade cheerleader costume and displayed her single pom pom and remained oblivious to the sacrifices I made for her but alert to the fact that I could bite off her face whenever I felt like it. 

Reenactment of me biting my sister's face off.

GUESS TAMMI GOT TIRED AFTER MAKING THAT COSTUME. When I saw the scarecrow, I was hopeful that the evening would end with me getting my hands on some ruby slippers and clicking my heels to the Kardashian's front door step. That didn't happen. Probably for the best.

I'm not crouching in this picture because I'm adorable. I'm crouching in this picture because my diaper had CLEARLY not been changed in days and my legs could no longer bear the weight. Thanks for nothing, Tammi.

She got dumps like a truck, indeed.

A few year later, I couldn't even look at the camera. I was over the trash bag garments and wanted nothing more than Tammi to get it together and sew me a real costume or at least take me to the local Taco Bell so I could fill out an application and get a job so I could buy my own costumes and rent my own apartment. Sure, this Batman suit included a non-canonical spiderweb on it for dramatic effect and shock value, but I where are the bat ears? Where is the full bat mask? This is some wild bastardization of Batman and Zorro.  
But I should be grateful. My sister didn't even get to wear a costume that year.

Above is an early image of myself and my patronus, which I had hoped would be my ticket out of the trashbags and back into the spotlight. GUESS MY HOGWARTS LETTER GOT LOST IN THE MAIL, DUMBLE-BORE. It's fine. Had I arrived to HAGwarts, I would have knocked "the boy who lived" right off his little pedestal and I probably would have let Voldemort win, because that's none of my business.

Instead, I eventually progressed into an awkward person. THANKS FOR THE GENES, PARENTS.

And I got forced to live in a literal and figurative closet because my sister was "becoming a woman." YES THIS IS AN ACTUAL CLOSET. See? I was Harry Potter and Ashley was Dudley Dursley. WHERE IS MY HAGwarts LETTER DUMBLE-BORE!? Again, THANKS FOR NOTHING TAMMI.*Sidenote: I looked like a vampire because I was locked in a closet for most of my childhood.
We are going to ignore the *NSync memorabilia.

Despite all of these sacrifices I made, we grew up to be semi-functional and - MIGHT I SAY - ~attractive~ adults. And now I'm clamoring my way back into the limelight by shamelessly plugging for companies I don't even work for.

To be continued maybe.



UPDATE: Tammi responded. I thought I would share.

PS: *Thanks for everything, Mom. I really hope that story Ashley told me about you finding me in a dumpster wasn't real.