Sunday, June 26, 2011

Yup, I am nice.

Kinda Scary.
I am a nice person. Well, at least I think I am a nice person. Most people think they are nice - that is why you have family. They are there to keep you grounded. To keep you from becoming too full of yourself. To keep you from walking around like you are the second Mother Teresa. Cause they remember. They remember all the things you did and forgot. Family does not forget. Then there is Skype, the pin to burst the bubble of assumed niceness that you may have about yourself. No matter where you are in the world you can be reached and reminded of the little things that you let slip your memory.

My sister is touring the world and we often catch up over Skype. A few days back there was a message for me to come online. She had something to tell me. Worried/Excited/Concerned I logged onto Skype. “I fit in size 26 jeans, didi” she told me excitedly. She had been working out and watching her weight so I was very happy for her. “Do you know what that means?” she asked. Obviously my excited responses had not sufficed. “Do you remember the size 26 jeans from 9th grade?” another clue was sent my way. I was still as dumbfounded as when she started.

When my sister was in 9th grade she was a little plump. I had been plump growing up and had recently shed many many kilos. I am not into being super skinny but even today I can remember reveling in the feeling of not being fat for once. So, as I am told, I decided that she, by the virtue of being my sister, would be skinny too. So, I bought her a pair of jeans. Nice right, except these were a few sizes too small.  A size 26 pair of jeans. It was not an accident. I told her to keep squeezing into them until she fit in them.

Over a decade later I got the call – she fit in them jeans. Well, not the jeans we bought together but the metaphorical size 26 jeans. She had done it. She had finally squeezed into the expectations I had set for her. It made me laugh but it also burst my Mother Teresa bubble. That was mean. I mean that was one mean thing I did. And the worst part was that I had forgotten about it.

Like I had forgotten the time I had taken her into a corner behind the refrigerator, put my hand around her neck and told her I could kill her. I was seven and I must say I was scary. Like the time I convinced her that mango bars were made of coagulated chicken blood. The time I showed her a man carrying a sack and told her that he was going to kidnap her if she kept following me to the park.

So, I must say, I am a nice person. I mean I must be super nice. Like over the top 200% nice because in spite of all this I have a wonderful, beautiful (and now finally ;) size 26)  confident sister who actually loves me. We talk all the time and she is one of my best friends. So, if I threaten to kill you and you still love me it just goes to prove one thing. I am super nice J


Here is an amazing peek on what my sister is upto as she spends the WHOLE YEAR travelling the world -


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