My name is Faith, and I have a twin. You see, it started when I was born. Well, two minutes after I was born. Ever since then, I haven’t not been a twin. It’s a real problem. My twin brother’s name is Donald. Horrifyingly, I was called Daisy for weeks before I was born and for three days after I was born. Our parents spared us with that, at least.
There are a lot of things you never think about unless you’re a twin. Most of all, everyone automatically thinks twins have to be identical and I can tell you that’s not the truth. Donald and I look so different from each other that people think we’re dating. So if you think I’m bragging when I say that he’s my twin, it’s because I’m clarifying that my twin is not my boyfriend. Lastly, when you’re older than 5, it is not cool to do that twinning thing. One time my brother came up wearing the same old hockey Tshirt and jeans that I was. The. Same. Clothes. We stood there for fifteen minutes; “Well, I’m not going to change.” “I was wearing it first. You change.” “YOU change.” I’m sure you get it.
The main point of being a twin is the shared birthday. I have never had a birthday. I just get an extra gift-giving holiday. It’s just my brother and I, so our birthday is just like Christmas. We both get gifts. I’ve never had a birthday. People don’t understand that. It is the strangest concept, even for me. Even the “happy birthday” greetings are shared. My brother and I used to play hockey so we had our birthday parties at the ice rink and half the room would be dolphins and the other half dinosaurs—and that is how my life has been. A compromise. Half. Everyone always thinks of twins as half. And, yes, I am the evil half.
Time for a fun twin story—of course, this one is a little unconventional, if I may call it that. It started on a snow day—a day where school was canceled because the roads were too bad—and my brother and I were looking for snow pants to play in the snow. Instead we found one big set of overalls. We thought we were so smart—I said, "I bet we could both fit in there." Five minutes later, I was in the right leg and he was in the left. We hopped over to the mirror and he took a picture with his iPhone and set it down and wanted to hop around more. He said it was ‘fun’. We hopped around in our living room for a couple minutes until everything came falling down (Literally.) We fell down, still zipped up in the huge pair of tough farm-grade jean overalls. We ended up wedged between two pieces of furniture, attached at the hip, one may say. Oh, did I forget to mention both my parents were at work, so we were home alone? Yeah. We were stuck there for 15-20 minutes until he rolled over me (huff) and the overalls ripped. That is one of the most embarrassing things I have experienced—and I haven’t even told you old we were.
Fifteen. We were fifteen.
And that is what it is like being a twin.
