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My Sister Thinks She is a Fairy Princess
My older sister Chris is the funniest person I know. She always has been, and always will be. The reason why is because she has had a lifelong belief of that she is a fairy princess. She is so convinced she is a fairy princess, that every little girl that has come through her life (usually nieces) she has made to become "fairy princesses in training." The indoctrination process is rigorous. But she has been very successful in her training methods. Two of her nieces are now carrying the fallacy torch that they too are fairy princesses.
But when you look at the real facts, which I will share with you in a moment, you will see that there may be just a few reasons to doubt that my sister is a bonafide fairy princess.
"So," you may ask, "why do you think your sister is off in her belief that she's a fairy princess?" Okay, I'll tell you why. First of all, from the minute I was born, a year and ten days after her, she decided that she was my commander - in - chief, a job for fairy godmothers, not fairy princesses. Case in point:
It was 4:00 a.m. I was three, Chris was four. She woke up and decided she was ravenously hungry. Knowing she was not allowed to roam the house before Mom and Dad were up, she woke me from a sound sleep.
Chris: Wake up, Lori. I'm hungry.
Chris: I said wake up. I'm hungry. Go out to the kitchen and get me some bread.
Me: I'm tired, go get it yourself.
Chris: Get out of that bed and get me some bread now!
Me: Mom and Dad will get mad if I wander the house and steal food.
Chris: If you don't get it, I'm going to ( fill in the blank)
Scaredy cat that I was, I padded out to the kitchen as soundlessly as I could, opened the bread drawer, and shoved my hand down the center of the loaf pulling out the innards of several slices and leaving the crust. I was shaking like a leaf, not because I was afraid of getting caught by Mom and Dad, but because I was afraid Chris might think I didn't bring enough. But I ran back to the room like a gazelle on a mountain top, and handed over the goods with fear and trepidition. She wasted no time wolfing it down. And do you think she'd offer me even the tiniest ort? Of course not. Instead of a thank you I got "Now go to bed, and don't tell or I'll beat you up." Well, I went back to bed, but I did not get back to sleep.
At 8 a.m. Mom said to us as we sat at the table waiting for our breakfast, "You girls want some toast with your cereal?" I got a sick feeling in my stomach, panic welled up within me. I snuck a look at my sister, hoping against hope that she would give me a look back that said, "Don't worry, she can't prove anything," Instead, she kicked me under the table and gave me a look that said, "Say a word and your dead."
So, Mom opened the bread and saw a massive hole in the loaf. "Oh my goodness, will you look at this loaf of bread. The insides are missing. Come here and look at this girls, have you ever seen anything like this?" Chris and I ran over feigning curiosity. "Wow," Chris said, "wonder what happened." I didn't say a word. Mom decided it must have been an air bubble that burst in the loaf as it was being made. My sister looked exultant as if she herself had planted that silly thought in my mother's brain. She then looked at me smugly as if to say, "See, I know what I'm doing."
That little scenario went on for some time. My Mom and Dad soon got wise and figured Chris was doing it because I was so quiet and timid. Chris was feisty, Chris was mischievous, Chris was cunning. But being the commander-in-chief of my life, she blamed it on me, her private infantryman. I don't know how my parents came to find out the truth, but they did, and the pre-dawn bread raids stopped.
Who's the real fairy princess?
Fairy princess, mother, teacher, Paul
My sister loved dresses, pretty dresses, and she still does. She loved shiny, patten leather shoes with lacey bobby socks, frilly petticoats, white gloves, and Sunday hats and purses that were frilly. She would whirl round and round in front of me and tell me she was a fairy princess. Sucker that I was, I believed her, even though Mom always dressed us alike and I was wearing exactly the same thing she was. She didn't say I looked bad, or that I was an ugly doofus, she just insisted she was a fairy princess and gave me a list of whys.
I'm a fairy princess because:
- I have on a white frilly slip (same as mine)
- I have on a beautiful yellow dress (same as mine)
- I have on shiny patten leather shoes (same as mine)
- I have a white Sunday hat with a yellow ribbon (same as mine)
You get the picture. Because she was older, I assumed she must be smarter; that she always knew something I didn't. So, I believed that somehow, even though we were wearing exactly the same thing, she must really look like a fairy princess and I just looked ordinary. You see, I am the poster child for "GULLIBLE."
My sister and I, and eventually our little sister Jamey, often played house. Chris would be the mom, Jamey would be the little girl, and I would be the dad, brother, and many times the dog. I was so envious that they got to be females. But being the dog, I decided, had it's advantages. While Mom Chris was dressing her daughter (Jamey) to look like a fairy princess, I was sniffing around their feet and whimpering like a neglected puppy. Chris would wave a hand at me and say "Shoo!" I'd crawl away and come right back around and start jumping on their legs panting playfully. "I told you to scram," she'd say, and wave me away again. I'd come around for the third time and start leaping and barking...and barking...and barking.
After she would berate me, she'd say, "Why don't you be Jamey's sister." AHA! Victory. Just so she wouldn't figure me out, I'd say, "Oh, do I have to? I like being the dog." And there was some truth to that. It was the one time I could manipulate and annoy her deliberately and get promoted instead of demoted.
Another thing we often played was school. I'll bet you'll never guess who was the teacher...that's right, Chris. Instead of teaching us the ABC's, she taught us beautiful penmanship, dance, voice lessons, etc. My sister Jamey was an eager female student. I was usually a boy student, and once even the janitor. I hated being the boy, until I realized once again, I could annoy her beyond bearance. I would make myself the class clown, the obnoxious, disrespectful pupil. For awhile it worked quite well, but then she figured out she could send me to the principal. Guess who played the principal? She got her revenge alright.
On Saturday mornings, Mom and Dad slept in so my sisters and I would go downstairs and play Beatles and Petula Clark records. We pretended we were the singers and musicians. When we played the Beatles, Chris always designated herself as Paul, the cool, handsome Beatle. I always volunteered to be John or George. If she was in a generous mood I was John or George, but if she was not happy with me, I had to be Ringo. One time I tried to use this to my advantage and banged the drums so loud I drowned out her solo song, "Yesterday." Before she could get her revenge, Dad came halfway down the stairs and told me to knock it off. Chris had the last laugh on that.
Bossy at a young age
Big sisters are the crab grass in the lawn of life."— Charles M. Schulz
Facebook ID Photo
Another big reason I don't buy into the whole fairy princess theory is because fairy princesses don't make silly faces, and Chris rarely went before a camera without making a face of some kind. Take the first photo at the top of this hub. The little girl on the left, auburn hair in braids, sweet, angelic smile, a picture of innocence, that is me. The one on the left, eyes to the side, tongue out and to the side, that's the fairy princess. Clearly I am the fairy princess in this photo.
To this day my sister Chris still loves to make funny faces in the camera. Her social networking profile photo is a classic example. It's the black and white photo to the right.
Grandma was impartial
Fairy princesses don't fight
How many fairy princesses in the Disney movies did you ever see get physically violent? I can't think of one. They used their brains, their charm, or friends in high places to overcome or get what they wanted. On the surface, they seem either air-headed or like doormats, but somehow they always achieved victory.
My sister does not fit this profile. She does have brains, and she does have incredible charm, but when we were growing up, she used her fingernails, feet, and hair-pulling hands to get what she wanted. Being a tomboy, I always used my fists. I had a stunning right hook. Under normal circumstances I could stop a buffalo with one, strategically placed, punch. But my delicate, feminine, fairy princess of a sister, had chutzpah. Like Rocky Balboa, she could go the distance.
I remember our last physical fight. I was 12 and she was 13. We were in the backyard playing tether ball. We were both very competitive. I loved sports, she loved winning - at all costs. I don't remember who started swinging first or why, but we got into it but good. My fists were flying furiously. I was really hitting her hard. I could hear her grunt when my fist made contact with her solar plexus. She stopped for a nanosecond, then rounded on me grabbing my long, beautiful hair by the fistfuls and nearly snatched me baldheaded. I continued the punching, so her next tactic was to kick. Since she wasn't wearing patten leathers anymore, but moccasins (it was the late sixties) I managed to hold my own, but then she started screaming like a banshee, swearing, and biting, pulling hair, and kicking all at once. Realizing she had an abundance of energy still left after all my right and left hooks, I decided I didn't want to stay in the fight any longer. I'll take a punch any day over hair pulling, biting and kicking. So I surrendered. For some reason, we became allies after that.
World belching champion
You read right, world belching champion. That is my fairy princess sister. She can belch and say three sentences all in one breath. When we were kids, we went to some family friends' house often and played with their three boys. One day we had a belching contest. I was a lame belch-er so I didn't even get honorable mention, but the boys gave her a run for her money. In the finals she decided to pull out all the stops.
Jeffery belched first. He went for length, not volume. On a scale of 1 - 10, 10 being best, I'd give him about a 7.5. John went next. He went for volume and crudity. I think he rated about an 8. Now it was Chris' turn. There was a very steep hill across the street from the house. My sister trekked up that hill. She called out to see if we could hear her. We could, but not well. I, being the facilitator of this little competition, cupped my hands and yelled my loudest up the hill and said, "Your turn Chris." Being up on a hill, the belch sound carried over the whole neighborhood. The earth shook, the leaves trembled and Chris was the winner. She got a 20+ in volume, length, and crudity. Fairy princess, my foot.
Actress in Comedic Role
Bully to bullies
My sister was a master at name calling. I always admired her for that. I tried to emulate her in that sense. As I've already established, she could be very aggressive if the need arose. That being said, she could call me a really bad name, insult me, and yank my hair, but later that day, if she found someone harrassing me, boys howdy look out.
One day when she and I were about 8 and 9, a boy classmate of mine, who was a very mean kid, decided to victimize me in my best friend's backyard. I was on the ground screaming my head off. He was cackling like the devil in victory. All of a sudden I heard a string of expletives from my sister. This was followed by the howling and wailing of my tormentor. He was writhing on the ground bawling like a baby. I got to my feet and looked down at him on the ground. He had the most wicked looking welt on his leg I had ever seen. My friend was holding my sister back from doing this poor boy anymore harm. You see, she had a rubber hose in her hand and billows of steam coming out of her ears and nose. It so reminds me of the scene in A Christmas Story where Ralphie finally had had enough of Scutt Farcas' bullying, and beat the snot out of him. To this day if someone hurts me in any way, she gets upset, and the person who hurt me better run fast. I love my sister.
An older sister is a friend and defender - a listener, conspirator, a counsellor and a sharer of delights. And sorrows too."— Pam Brown
Lullabies, swear words, God, and dreams
My fairy princess sister could be very tender when the sun went down and we were tucked into bed. My sister took herself for a beautiful soloist. Because she was always right, I figured she would someday win a grammy. But, I digress. Often while we were in bed with moonbeams shining through our little window, Chris would sing me sweet ballads. My favorite was Shanendoah. She sang it with such feeling. I worshiped her. When she was done, it was quiet as we basked in the afterglow of her moving song.
Sometimes, as soon as the lights were out I'd say, "Chris will you sing me a song?" "Sure," she'd say, "what'll it be?" Of course I'd ask for Shanendoah. But she had a great litany of songs. Kumbyah, Moon River, Yesterday, and many of the top 10 ballads on the charts. To keep things humorous I am tempted to say she sang these songs to show off her vocal talents. But truth be told, I think she sang them because the lyrics touched her soul and she loved sharing that with me. Deep down Chris had a heart.
Sometimes when we'd been naughty all day and lights went out, we both felt there was a little more vileness in us. So I would say, "Let's play swear words, Chris, you go first." Chris would then say every bad word she could think of before the buzzer sounded. "That was really good," I'd say, so in awe of the power and color of her vocabulary.
"Okay, your turn Lori." I took a deep breath and let out an impressive blast of expletives. I felt so wicked and I must say, it felt down right delicious. Whenever one of us learned a new swear word or inappropriate term, we would play the swear game and tag it onto the end of our stream of naughty words. It was an evil bond we forged. I shudder to think of this activity now, especially when I envision my sweet little grandchildren doing it. I suppose it's just part of the curiosity and willfulness of being children.
Lest you think we were the devil's angels, we did have our moments where we talked about God. I remember very little unfortunately about what we said specifically, but I do remember we talked about the things we learned in Sunday school. Some of it was confusing, but it was a holy alliance which I am happy to say outlived our evil bond and today we are now believers.
Chris and I used to sit up at night and tell each other about strange, scary, or exciting adventurous dreams we had. We were both good at oratory and embellishment, so it made for a fun bedtime activity. Strange thing though, we have had a lifelong phenomenon of having the same or similar dreams. After bedtime was the time Chris and I really got along and drew close to one another. But I really thought she was stupid when she made my mom kiss every one of the 20 stuffed animals she had lined up on either side of her head. My poor mother struggled with chapped lips for years.
Who's the fairy-est Prnicess?
Would you be willing to enroll in fairy princess training with my sister Chris?
Social, charming, and stylish
After my sister and I entered high school, her charms did fully emerge. My sister was a beauty and had an outgoing personality. She was an expert dancer and the boys liked her. She was Miss personality plus. I was a decent looking girl, but utterly failed to see it. We lived in a neighborhood with many teenage girls in it. We all became kind of a gang (a nice gang). We did everything together. We went to the beach, shopping, partying, smoking in front of our houses every night to chat, everything. I had one girl in particular I was close to. All of these girls were outgoing, had boyfriends, and seemed confident and charming. I was a wallflower much of the time when it came to social interactions outside of our little gang, or when others came into our circle. But alone with them and at home I could be as outrageously goofy as sis.
I watched my sister closely as she interacted with people. I wanted to know how to communicate with people naturally. She was so hilarious, goofy, and charming all at once. She still belched proudly, improving her skills as the years went by. We all had foul mouths at the time, that was the way it was before we found the Lord. She was rarely without a boyfriend, and she had great fashion sense. She was always helpful in showing me what looked good and what didn't. Although I felt I was ugly because I was flat chested and had acne, and that I was inferior socially, I never felt insecure about my clothes. We were always sharing clothes.
At one point I got my first boyfriend. A sailor who was close friends to her boyfriend. They were on the same ship in San Diego. I finally felt like I measured up to the world's standard and my sister and her boyfriend kind of watched out for me. Sometimes we all four did things together. It was a time that I got closer to my sister.
When that boyfriend of mine dumped me my sister was so kind and compassionate. She let me know he was the jerk. She soon broke up with her sailor and that was that. I treasure to this day her support and kindness during that difficult time.
A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life."— Isadora James
Mr. and Mrs. Fairy Princess
My friend, advisor, encourager, and fashion director
In 1974 my sister and her boyfriend Steve, and my boyfriend (let's call him Dave) and I all got married. Both Steve and Dave were older than us by about 6 or 7 years. I personally don't understand why our parents let us date older guys, but that's water under the bridge. I was in my senior year of high school. My sister was making her way in the working world. She and Steve were engaged, the wedding was scheduled for May. We four hung out a lot together and had the greatest times. Well guess who beat the fairy princess down the aisle? Yours truly. You see I made the unfortunate mistake of giving my purity away and was now in a family way. Three weeks before Chris and Steve marched down the aisle, Dave and I tied the knot with a very quickly, and inexpensively thrown together wedding. It was a nice little wedding, but I was not ready. If Chris ever felt like I rained on her parade because I got married so suddenly just prior to her long planned wedding she never showed it. She was my maid of honor and I was her matron of honor three weeks later.
Chris and Steve and Dave and I lived in the same apartment complex and we hung out together a lot. Then our blessed little bundle came and I focused most of my time being a mommy. Through the years my sister became the greatest aunt who ever lived. She and Steve had their own little boy, Christopher Michael, but he went to heaven a few days after his birth. It was a sorrowful time for them. We grew up in a family who didn't acknowledge negative feelings. We belonged to a religion that told us sin and sickness weren't real and death was never talked about. We never went to funerals or memorial services. I had never faced a significant death and had no clue how to respond as I watched my sister and and her husband grieve. I was terrified at being responsible to make them not feel the pain. I didn't have that power of course, nor was I responsible to make the hurt go away. I have no idea where I got that idea, but I did. I didn't understand then that grieving is appropriate when you loose someone and healthy, that being desperately sad at the death of a loved one was normal. I didn't realize that all she needed was for me to put my arms around her, tell her I love her, and cry with her. It's one of my deepest regrets.
It must have been so hard for her to watch me birth and raise four boys after her tremendous loss. But by gum, she became the worlds greatest aunt. All of my kids, and my younger sister's kids adore her. Now my grandchildren adore her. They love her because she laughs at their antics, makes them laugh with her own, teaches them how to belch, gives them unconditional love, and lets them know when they are not treating her sisters (Jamey and I) right. They respect her immensely.
My sister was a tremendous support to me during my tumultuous marriage and family years. She knew when I was hurting even when I tried to hide it. When I talked bad about myself she firlmly and lovingly set me straight. She could always lighten my mood by taking me on retail therapy jaunts. It wasn't the shopping that made my day, it was her efforts at spending time with me, affirming my worth, and just a time to have fun (something I didn't have much of). If I had a special event coming up that required a new dress, she took me shopping and made sure I got the most flattering dress possible in my budget. She always told me how pretty I was. She always told me not to let certain people in my life push me around, that I had a voice and an opinion. Little by little I started believing her.
Chris, my other sister, Jamey, and I have all gone through some heartbreaking trials, as most everyone has. Through Chris' darkest hours, when her life seemed out of control, she was still there for us. Watching her go through the things she did and then rebound inspired me. Her perseverance never ceases to amaze me. I don't know that I was any help to her. I hope she knew that I loved and cared for her. Jamey and I have also suffered some pretty hard stuff and we all have been there for each other. We lost our Mom in 2002. At that time we were all still close to Mom but several years prior to and leading up to Mom's passing each of us girls battled with hurts our parents had caused us. When we got together we'd talk about it. We'd cry about it. We processed it together. When one was going through an angry period, the other two held them up. When someone was going through a sorrowful period, the other two held them up. We went through this about our father too. My sister Chris and I kept having the same series of bad dreams related to family matters. I might have the series of dreams for several months. Then, many months later, she'd call and say that she is having these bad dreams now just like mine. How healing it has been to process these with each other. The nightmares have stopped for both of us and I am convinced it is because we talked about it. I am now at a place where I realize my folks did the best the could with what they had and when I look at how I parented, and how other people parent, I'd say my parents were very good parents. I treasure the memories of both my parents now.
But Chris seems to be the rock. We laugh now about the fairy princess thing. But on the rare occasions that I am around her when she is near a little girl I still hear her the familiar spiel, "Did you know I am seasoned fairy princess? Stick with me kid, and I'll make you one too." I smile, send God a knowing wink, and play along. Anything else would be no fun.
Post Nuptial Agreement
Related Family Humor Hubs by Lambservant
- The Belching Olympics: Sister Wins Gold Medal in Gastric Freestyle
Lambservant remembers her sister's remarkable gastric abilities
- My Family Pet Adventures
A woman's humorous reflections on the many pets in her life.
- Mayhem at the Shopping Mall and my Sainted Mother's Perseverance
A humorous look at the antics of three little girls when Mom takes them shopping.
© 2011 Lori Colbo