My sister and I once went at each other so hard as teenagers that my mum threatened to call the police.
*Zoe is just 20 months older than me, meaning that we have the kind of stereotypical sister bond that people make memes about. Nobody had each other's back more than us, and nobody could drive each other to rage more than us. Which is what happened when I cut and hemmed a pair of Zoe's new jeans.
Zoe had told our parents that she was staying at our friend's house, but I knew she was really just two blocks over at the captain of the local NRL team's house while his parents were away. Knowing I had ammunition against her, I took the liberty of borrowing her new denims, but not before I made sure they were the right length for me. It was a dick move and when she discovered my treachery she lost her mind.
As we grappled with fistfuls of each other's hair, spitting hissed threats at each other our venom built and built.
"You wrecked my jeans! I'm going to kill you!"
"Let me go or I'll tell mum where you were last night."
"You wouldn't dare! I HATE YOU!"
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Zoe's hands made their way to my throat, while our poor, long suffering mum screamed at us as she tried to tear us apart. But our mutual rage had become too much for her for the first time, and that's when she threatened to call the police.
That event marked the beginning of Zoe's 'naughty era' and I tagged along for the ride. Drinking, smoking, sex. We pushed the boundaries as far as we could before we tipped over to full on delinquency.
I was wild, but Zoe was a beast. A real 'good time gal' with dubious taste in the menfolk out there. Until she met *Michael.
The switch-up was almost instant. Mum and Dad were beside themselves with an unbridled joy at the fact that at least one of us was bringing home a guy who had a job. Meanwhile, Zoe had a new found discovery of manners that had been long buried under surliness and sass.
Michael has always been lovely, if a little judgey. It soon became clear that he wasn't looking for a 'good time gal'. He was looking for a 'good girl' to adore and look after, and Zoe was ready to fit that mold.
At first I mocked her in the way that only a sister could. "Good morning, Anne of Green Gables!" I'd jest as she ditched her cheek-baring cutoffs for voluminous skirts and modest linen ensembles.
I'd ask about her sex life and scoff as she'd smugly inform me that they were waiting for marriage. "Does he know how many threesomes you've had?" I'd laugh.
They got engaged on their one year anniversary, married just six months later and pregnant on the honeymoon. Not a dick straw in sight on the Hen's Night.
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Zoe's friend circle was now made up of the 'demure and cutesie' wives of Michael's friends, and, like them, my sister has quickly slipped into the role of an obedient 'trad wife'.
That doesn't mean she's nice, though. Zoe's venom is still there, now it comes in the form of a smug superiority channeled into a highly curated Instagram grid. My tattoos and the dreadlocked musos that I date would never get a square.
Zoe's life is oatmeal coloured: her fashion, her homewares, her children, her milk. Her chin held high so she can view the world by looking down her nose at all of those beneath her.
Her reels show a perfect home, perfect wife, perfect children. She's insufferable! But I'm there when she films them. I hear the bribes, I see the mess pushed out of shot, I hear the complaints about Michael, I know she's bored out of her mind. She's human, like the rest of us, this life she portrays is inauthentic.
I'm not sure where the superiority complex comes from. For me, doing all the housework, cooking all the meals, bearing the entire mental load of running the household and being subservient to a man and his wallet is not a flex. But for Zoe it's her biggest source of self-worth.
"God, Zoe, take a break, the only person expecting you to be perfect is you!" I'll urge as she makes another whole foods meal for the 'gram, knowing full well that I'll probably take the kids for nuggets later when they refuse to eat it.
"What would YOU know about it?" she'll retort. "I have a great marriage and a great life, you're just jealous."
"At least I have my own money and don't need to ask permission before I spend any of it," I'll shoot back.
I'm trying to hold onto our relationship because this new lifestyle of hers feels unsustainable and she's going to need me when it falls apart, but she is becoming more and more difficult to be around.
I miss my fun sister, and I'm sick of this new one's sugar-free baked goods.
Feature Image: Getty.
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