Friday, September 08, 2006

Easter Eggs and Boyfriends

Ever get up really late in the morning, get dressed quickly, and off to work without really checking to make sure you look stunning? That was me this morning, and at work, I checked myself out in the bathroom mirror (why, I am not sure since I could do little to change it other than touch-ups) and I look good. Not evening-on-the-town good, but good for work.

Then I get to my seat and wonder what I am going to write – can I write good enough for the few loyal readers I get each day? Too soon to tell, but by the end of this, I may "look in the mirror again."

When I was six or seven years old, and I know this story will be slightly absurd, I can remember Easter at home. The grass was manicured, the dew was gently evaporating away, and me and my sister were Easter Egg hunting. Since she was 15 months my junior, we each had our own eggs to find. I had my boundaries and she had hers. I remember that crisp spring morning, surveying the lawn, and spotting most of her eggs. My eggs were well hidden, a handicap because of my advanced years to be sure.

My parents pitted us against one another throughout our early years, and this Easter Egg hunt was no exception. We needed to find the eggs in a short amount of time – and to this day, I think they were preparing us to enter Easter Egg hunts in the future and to win trophies for finding the "golden egg." Again, very silly, but to this day I can remember so much about that Easter.

We each found our eggs, and I found mine first. I "worked" at finding my eggs, while my blond-headed sister took her time. I remember seeing her tresses bobbing up and down as she skipped from easy-to-find egg to easy-to-find egg. I ended up finding all of my eggs first, and I presented them to my parents. First child, goal oriented, and I followed the script to the letter.

After the event, I remember my mother counting all of the eggs, and I had one egg more than my sister. I don't know why I had found an additional egg, but this I do remember. She "penalized me" by giving two eggs to my sister. As a young proper girl, I would never have thought, "what the fuck," but knowing what I know now, perhaps I should have mouthed those words. In my innocence, I immediately saw my sister taking from me.

As the years went forward, I continued to see the pattern. Sister taking my clothes, my toys, whatever, and parents not really "protecting me." But the culminating act of thievery was when I was a junior in high school. I had my first serious boyfriend, and I knew he liked the way my sister looked. She was extremely pretty in her sophomore year, and she had many older boys who thought she was wonderful. She ended up, I found out, kissing my boyfriend, and shortly thereafter, we broke up. I always thought of her as stealing him. I learned, years later, that she not only kissed him but fucked him, which would have surprised me actually. I knew she was flirty, but I did not really know the extent of her flirtiness.

Now over the years I have forgiven her, but I even wrote one erotic story to get back at her. My point is not to say my sister is a bitch. She really isn't. She was a bit off-course, and she enjoyed attention at that point in her life.

My point is this – sometimes, some very insignificant event may have ripples throughout your lifetime. Stealing an egg is felt years later in other ways. Now I have to go do some work and look productive. Perhaps I will read this later today, to "look in the mirror" and hope the entry does not need touching up.


~Deb said...

Holy CRAP! I just read that story you linked! Wow! .... Wow....

*shaking head*

Okay, ....I have three older, BEAUTIFUL sisters. All three of them are complete knockouts. Seriously. They have good looking significant others as well.

I am just SO grateful that I'm a lesbian and they're all straight. There's no competition there. Know what I mean? Unless one or three of my sisters are secret dykes...Who knows. But in any sibling situation...or whatever, there's always a teeny-weeny bit of competition--whether it be career, who gets married first, or who's mama's favorite.

Now, if one of my sisters were a lesbian and happened to be dating a beautiful girl...who's to say I wouldn't have done the same thing or slipped? ;) ha! SO glad I'm gay!

Great great post! I was very entertained by this. I hope you and your sister have a good relationship though.

Did she ever find out? And how is your relationship with your brother-in-law like at this present time?

KYCM said...

Can I be your brother-in-law for a few days? I enjoy your musings and would love to see you. My honesty I'm sure would say that you look as lovely in person, as your writings always seem to be for me. Thanks Leesa!


Leesa said...

~deb: You asked "Did she ever find out? And how is your relationship with your brother-in-law like at this present time?" Actually, the story was fictional, at least as far as it being my brother-in-law.

kycm: thanks, sweetie!

~Deb said...

Was that response written out of "CYA"? ;) I love your stories regardless. You paint...a very...very pretty picture.

I think kycm was hittin' on ya ...

Tony said...

Interesting post. Loved the story.

Leesa said...

~deb: in erotica, no asses are covered.

tony: hope you are talking about today's story.

Grant said...

Yes, I can see how one's parents burning one with cigarettes can lead to a Random Killing Spree, hypothetically speaking.

Advizor said...

I read the linked story again, and loved it all over; in fact, it was the spark for my own entry at my lonely little blog.

But really I loved your imagery in today's post, "some very insignificant event may have ripples throughout your lifetime." I have several memories that resonate today like they happened just moments ago, some shameful, some embarrassing, others just plain traumatic. All of them have shaped who I am and how I react, but it's usually a day later when I look back and realize that 1975 is alive and well in my subconscious.

One memory, that won't land me in jail or in therapy, involved my younger brother and my friends. We were in the back of my dad's truck and he was begging us to play with him. Through his tears he said that he had no friends and pleaded with us to play. Being a callous son-of-a-bitch, even at 10, and wanting to show my friends how tough I as, I ignored him and left him crying in the bed of my dad's truck.

It was from that moment on that I defined my brother as weak. That judgment is still in my head; the memory of him crying and begging to be my friend makes me remember him at his lowest point, and I have a hard time seeing him in any other way. Today, as then, he's still the chubby little outcast that everyone picks on. I've learned to control the urge to piss him off for sport, but that one moment still ripples through both of our lives.

Leesa said...

grant: er, thanks.

advizor: wow, how sad for him.

Advizor said...

He's (my brother) made a lot of choices that keep him in his current situation, but I have often reflected on that particular moment, and other tinmes in other circumstances, where I could have, should have, made a better choice. I also have to ask myself, what am I doing now that will ripple through my life for the next 10 years.

mal said...

Leesa- the answer is Daniel Hoffman Gill

~ Amanda X&O said...

Wow... no wonder so many kids need therapy.

I can only hope that when I become a parent I remember your story and deal with sibling rivalry the correct way. If there is one.

Prata said...

My parents were too busy pitting myself and my sister against one another (as in parent against parent; they were divorced) to be concerned about pitting us against each other. My sister never did feel it necessary to be competitive with me.

Looking back, she did feel the need to graduate high school a year early (she is 2 years younger than me). I believe it was to try to prove to me (not my parents as we no longer cared what our parents wanted) that she was at least as intelligent as I am. The difference between my sister and myself is that she worked her ass off in school. She really studied hard and she graduated a year early with a 3.9 gpa. I, on the other hand, did not work hard. I hated school. I graduated with a 4.5 (I took weighted and college science and literature classes) in addition to the regular classes. My sister was always better at math and a faster calculator than me. I was horrid at math so she did my math homework, and I did her literature. *snickers*

Leesa said...

advizer: interesting thoughts.

mal: I feel like the host on Jepardy!

amanda: thanks, sweetie, I think!

prata: 3.9 or 4.5, both numbers above my accomplishments.