Friday, December 02, 2011

I've Got a Pain in My ____, Just Like Love!!!

My sisters Sarah and R. are 14 and 28 months younger than I am, respectively.  We were tow-headed, dimpled, adorable little girls that people often mistook for triplets.  When I was little, I didn't realize that they were not only my best friends, for many years, they were really my only friends.

We played (and fought) constantly.  And somehow, it often ended up THEM vs. ME.

I honestly don't know how this started.  I was too little when it started to understand the impact it would have on my life.

And as my mortal enemies/best friends/sisters, they knew exactly which buttons to push to drive me insane.

And at the top of the list of evil things they did to me are sounds:

Lets start with the song.  We used to share a double bed, Sarah and I on the edges and R. sleeping in the middle.  Little kids usually don't need an alarm clock, but that went double for me: any morning that they woke up before I did, they would sneak over to me and start singing.  The song went "I've got a pain in my _____, just like love!!!"  The blank would be whatever body part they were bouncing on me at the moment, although their favorite was to bounce their butts on me as they sang, "I've got a pain in my butt, just like love!"  I still don't know what that means.

They would also do this mouth... smacking... thing.  I've done it to The Hubs, and he confirms that its REALLY annoying.  And now he does it to me too, when I'm tired and cranky.

He is not as funny as he thinks he is.

They also used to claim that they were aliens, and had their own language.  I still can't understand their made-up language THAT THEY STILL SPEAK.  But they used to use it all the time when I was around, just because it drove me insane.

You know how, if someone is standing behind you in line at the grocery store, and speaking a language you don't understand, you get that paranoid feeling that they are talking about you?

That's how I felt ALL THE TIME.  Of course I was convinced they were talking about me - and really, they might have been, but they were more likely just having non-sense conversations because the sight of my red and swelling face was hilarious to their juvenile minds.

They would make other repetitive noises, and to this day, repetitive noises drive me crazy.  Humming, tapping, snapping, knuckle-popping, any of it.  DRIVE ME BATTY.  I'm pretty sure you can trace this back to my sisters persistent use of obnoxious, repetitive sounds.

That's right.

MY SISTERS BROKE ME.