Firstly, let’s define what this bullshit is. Sister size is some idiocy bra manufacturers came up with to sell more. The premise is that you can go down a band size and up a cup size or vise versa, up a band size and down a cup size and it’ll fit.
It will, but it won’t look great.
I implore all women, young and old to abandon this bullshit. Only the right size is going to make you feel good… now is a time to be Goldilocks.
I don’t have a sister, but I grew up in clothes that fit poorly. I grew up in hand me downs. And this is not because we were particularly poor; it had a lot more to do with my mother’s incessant need to find a deal, to thrift, and unfortunately, I waited way too long to put a stop to it. Just this last April, actually, I firmly implored her to stop treating me like garbage by cloaking me, in the name of sustainability, in other people’s garbage.
It was never my treasure, it was always make do and ultimately pernicious. Lifestyle creep into shit storage territory occurred. I still don’t know who I am or what styles I value, as I write this with a potentially terminal illness, no husband, no close friends. I have forsaken myself every time I sister sized, every time I made do, and it’s a garbage way of living.
To explain further why this is bad. I’m tall, thin but quite curvaceous, fair-skinned, straight-haired, at least a 5/10 in pretty, and able-bodied, reasonably strong, and don’t have fat accumulation in places that prohibit styles like strapless/ bra-less from looking good. Every time I show up in the world not looking put together, people just see disease, asymmetry, insecurity, and a person who doesn’t care about themselves.
It’s probably too late, but my new commitment is to care about my appearance and myself.
Yesterday, I went up an old forestry road to a place called Sunshine Bay along the Arrow Lakes with a friend and his sister. It isn’t easy to get there. You need an off road vehicle and you need to come prepared for trees to fall in the road and block your exit.
I took in the natural beauty and enjoyed walking around the bay. These things can be pretty solitary even when you are with people.
I’m not the type to pick up rocks along the way. I don’t get fascinated by crystalline encrusted stones or see much value outside a paperweight. I have no ambition to build things with natural materials. I sure did enjoy a walk in nature though and I love a rock collector for facilitating the experience.
As I looked out on that lake, I remembered going up it with my father as a wee girl. Before my brother was born, my dad used to take me fishing on the Arrow Lakes. It was just him and I. I’d mostly sleep under the bow of the boat, and kiss the fishies he caught before he’d throw them in an icebath for killing at home. He never made me kill a fish, nor eat them; he did show me how to clean them and when you could tell if they had babies. These are fond memories – mostly because I didn’t see how they were killed.
Arrow lakes is steeped in memories of my dad. I didn’t know if I’d ever seen Sunshine Bay as we went shore access, not on a boat, yesterday. The shoreline is cragged with fallen rocks, it’s perfect scramble exercise to trek along it. Across the bay, you see mountains, covered in trees, soft rolling hills.
Many of the streams have dried up, but the lake does seem to be rising as spring has sprung. The dams are doing their job conserving water for a hot summer ahead.
At least, I hope its a hot summer ahead. I long for evenings on my patio once I finish decorating it. I look forward to the feeling of stifling heat. Lately, I’ve been too cold and because I’m losing weight, i’m even more sensitive to temperature. I haven’t been able to put away all my winter clothes.
Today I will be buying a bed and some bed frames. After that, I’m not sure. Soon I will start posting more about trends I see and complaints I hear and why it seems like we’ve got generations of people thinking about everything the wrong way.
Imbued Experiences 
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