Little Sisters

I am the oldest of three sisters. In some ways, that's awesome. In most ways, it's just a curse. Seriously. You know what's the problem with being the oldest sister? When you're sixteen, your parents are very worried about you, because they're afraid that you will end up in rehab now you're legally allowed to drink booze. The get really overprotective, because it's all new. When your little sisters turn sixteen, your parents ask them if they want some wine and tell them that it's ok if they want to party next saturday.

And worse: everything is always your fault, because you are wise enough to know better. I get really annoyed when my mum starts that speech again. Anyway, example number 1. Little sister number 1 - to be called 'the one who can cry so loud it hurts' hereafter - can get really angry. Really, really angry. She get's furious, for no explicit reason. She just gets furious and starts to cry, to scream, to bite, to kick and to slap. And when I react by jelling at her, it's my fault - because I shouldn't react in the first place, according to my parents. Example number 2. Little sister number 2 - to be called 'the one mostly made of pure bitchiness - can be extremely annoying, in a way all little sisters do, but a bit worser. When I go to school by bus and she takes her bike, she complains. Whatever, that isn't my problem. The one mostly made of pure bitchiness is a star in answering questions in the most bitchy way she can imagine. Yeah, life is hard when you can't do anything to make them stop - then hell just breakes loose. Being the oldest is so unfair.

But you know what: I don't have to use old stuff from my oldest sister. Ha. 1-1.

(By the way: I do love my sisters, but bitching about everything is something that happens in every household with a lot of girls)