I have decorated my sister’s (Cora) face many times. I have done it enough times to write an entire article over it.
The first time was when I was six or seven. We had a lovely stamp box that sat on a high shelf in the closet. I started with paper. I decorated that paper to my heart's content. Stamp after stamp. It was a good time but I guess, after a while, the paper didn’t fulfill my need to stamp. I needed something inspiring, emotional, deep, something that would wow a crowd.
Too bad Cora was the closest object in site. She was three years old when I stamped orange elephants and purple “Good Job!’s” onto her little round face. She just sat there, too. Honestly, if she would have just moved or gone away, it never would have happened. She must have secretly enjoyed it.
Her face was no longer a cute innocent pink. Her face was a disastrous and extremely ugly rainbow, especially once she started crying.
My mother got home, saw my sister, sighed, turned towards me and crossed her arms. “She did it to herself! She got out the stamps and just wouldn’t stop!” I told her. Lies, obviously. There was ink all over my hands. I pleaded innocence. I hadn’t done it! Cora had self-stamped! She wouldn’t listen to me.
If only she hadn’t been crying, I may have gotten away with it.
Then there was the nail polish.
Do you know about barbie nail polish? It’s this plasticy, waxy, extremely fake nail polish. It’s supposed to be less toxic and less messy than regular nail polish.
“This is actually for your cheeks,” I told my victim, “It’ll brighten up your face. Only beauticians know to put this on your face.”
I plastered that stuff in perfect little circles on my little sister’s cheeks. It looked… interesting.
Then panic set in. Well, for Cora. Not me. I was fine. I wasn’t the one who had weird Barbie make-up smeared across my face.
“Is it going to come off?” My sister asked, her voicing climbing higher and higher. “It’s going to be stuck forever! I’m going to be poisoned and die!”
Eh, I was pretty sure she would be fine. If she did die, at least I would know not to do it again.
My mom was able to get the nail polish off with a bit of scrubbing. But her cheeks were extra pink for about two weeks and it looked super cute. So, if anything, she should have thanked me.
Another time, I was sitting in bed with Cora. I spied a bottle of hand soap out of my eye.
“Cora, did you know that hand soap is just like lotion? You can rub it into your skin and it will make it so soft. Some people will tell you to use water, but they are wrong. Just apply the hand soap to your skin, rub it in, and leave it there. Do you want to try it?”
“Are you sure it won’t poison me?” Cora asked. Jeesh, what was the big deal? Cora seemed to have this idea that I was trying to poison her. If I had wanted to do that, I knew where the bleach was. Give me a break.
“Let’s try it,” I cheered happily, “I’ll rub it onto your back and your face, but you are going to have to leave it there for an hour. Okay?”
It took a little bit more convincing, but I finally got her to agree to it. It was midnight in the middle of the hallway. I felt so sneaky, my parents were asleep and had no idea we were out of bed. This was really helping to improve my spy skills.
Thirty seconds after the deed had been done, Cora’s back got extremely red. She kept scratching and was breaking out into a rash type thing.
Oops, time to go get mother to help with this one.
I really don’t know what my obsession was with putting on things on my sister’s skin.
I think it was because I was bored and liked messing with her. I was never in the sense “mean” but I wasn’t exactly the nicest sibling either. Lucky for Adelle she wasn’t born until I started growing out of that stage and by the time she was old enough to be messed with, I wasn’t feeling it much anymore.
In the mean time, I would like to make a formal apology to my sister. I am sorry for not only these instances, but also every other time I felt the need to screw with your head. I only did it because I care. I’m very eccentric and kinda weird. What else can I say?
