Dear Hater:

I don’t have a sister. But I DO have a brother who everyone likes more than me. So I can sympathize with you. To a point. It’s frustrating to be the one scrambling for affection when others seem to attract it with such little effort.

I get it. You are cloistered in spin class on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, praying that those few extra pounds you packed on over the holidays will somehow magically melt away in the next three hours allowing you to squeeze into an XS American Apparel ballerina dress like all the rest of your friends. I’ve been there.

Meanwhile, your sister is getting laid by her boyfriend for the second day in a row and cannot be bothered to pick you up and drive you to your next location. And to top it off, your mom isn’t going to do a THING about it.

Let me save you a little time and share what I learned the hard way. First of all, the XS dress will never fit. Ever. Even when some other company inevitably buys American Apparel and adds XXS and XXXS, effectively rendering an XS a de facto M. Trust me. XS and I don’t know each other and we never will. Make peace with it now and move on to Free People, where the sizing is so erratic that you have to devote an entire day to trying on every single garment, completely ignoring the size tags.

And to answer your question: Yes. Your sister and her boyfriend DO need to spend every single minute together. Because they’re fucking. And it’s Valentine’s Day. And if you have someone to fuck on Valentine’s Day, that’s what you do. But of course you know this. Which is why you are sobbing on the phone to your mom about not having a dress for tonight’s dance. You want your sister to get OFF the D and drive you around so that you can find a way to get ON the D. That seems egregious.

I have lived long enough to learn that these patterns rarely change. Today you’re walking the curb, crying to your mom about how unfair your sister is, tomorrow you’re trolling the parking lot at 3 am crying to your bestie about how some random guy just blew a load on you in his front seat that ruined your eyelash extensions.

Just lean into it. It’s too late to turn back now.



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