I come from a family of five women; three sisters, mum and me. Usually when I say that I get the same exact response: “Oh your poor Dad”. Trust me he’s fine. I know there was a difficult stretch for him; when we all got our periods and screamed I hate you more than I love you, but he never made us feel like he wanted it any other way. Growing up with siblings is hard, especially all girls. There are times when I feel like I’m stuck in an episode of Home and Away; it’s all drama, bitching and clothes stealing. Girls are hard work; we hold people to unreasonable expectations (that we often haven’t shared), have hidden agendas and talk in cryptic girl code that’s laced with all kinds of inadvertent meanings. But for the most part sister life is pretty bloody amazing.
I think having a squad of sisters socialised me, and instilled strong interpersonal communication skills for which I am thankful. You have to work hard to get a word in with our family, and if your story’s shit it gets bumped. I’ve learnt to tell my stories quickly, succinctly and exaggerate ever so slightly for added entertainment value. Our conversations are loud, animated, fast paced and free flowing. Most boyfriends invited to family Christmas liken our chat to a pack of wild hyenas and are completely overwhelmed, I love it. My sisters have always been there to inspire me, challenge me and listen to me whinge.
Things never felt that scary for me because I, being the baby, had three girls go through things first. I remember the day I got my period, usually a pivotal, overwhelming and slightly scary moment for most girls; my sister Bin just handed me a tampon, graphically mimed out the required action and sent me on my way. It was this kind of nonchalant, you got this attitude, they all had when imparting knowledge that made me feel strong and unafraid. Even now when I talk to my eldest sister Ang about giving birth; she shares her war stories which send me pale but also give me confidence à la I got through it, you can too.
It’s also pretty great to have panel of pretties to vet potential mates, or to have your back when you’re getting grief from some low life bitches. There really is no other bond like it, and over time it evolves and gets stronger. I remember all four of us sitting around the dinner table, topless, with wines in hand, discussing the differences between our breasts. Just openly talking, complimenting and sharing. Yeah, Dad was super awkward when he walked in on that one and left immediately. For us nothing is off limits, we’re a team of supporters bearing no judgement.
My sisters are all super talented souls and truly diverse. I have a switched on Detective/Mother of four, a ridiculously talented artist/teacher, and a wonderfully intelligent Senior Project Officer for Aboriginal Affairs. They school me on the important things and have really helped broaden my mind.
I share a special relationship with each one. Ang is my strength, she’s always exactly the same, a reassuring and calming influence in my life. I can rely on Ang. We also share the same booby shape and the freckle placement on our arms is freakishly similar. Jo is my spunk and gumption, she brings out my colour and sass. We have the same taste in art, fashion and music, and buy the same pair of boots from Kmart every year. She also loves KUWTK, Mob Wives and The Simple Life as much as me. Bin is the Yin to my Yang, our voices might sound exactly the same but we’re pretty different and it just bloody works. She makes me laugh like crazy, and I like who I am when I’m with her. She’s like all the good bits of Gatsby; she understands me just as far as I want to be understood, believes in me as I would like to believe in myself, and assures me that she has precisely the impression of me that, at my best I hope to convey.
Love you sisterfoxes.