On days like this, I wish that I were not a girl.
Yes, it’s Bad Cramps Day and today was one of those days when my stomach would, for mysterious reasons known only to itself, eject the foods that it houses within at inappropriate times. So off I went to work and in the hour that I was there, hurled twice. Caught a cab home (hole in pocket now, frig) into the sympathetic arms of my mother and my stomach started throwing tantrums again.
That totally sucks. SUCKS SUCKS SUCKS!
Okay, actually I am not in such a grouchy mood anymore. I realised that the Sista lubs me, in her own absent-minded sort of way. I had been sinking low in the chair this morning at the Office, complaining to her about my pains when she marched over (yes, we work at the same Company) and commanded me to go home. She even accompanied me to the taxi stand when I asked her to.
Now, the Sista and I have never been the best of friends. Despite the fact that she is the reason of my existence (my mother didn’t want her to grow up lonely and in need of a sibling, snort), she used to bully me for the fun of it. Once, we were in some violent quarrel and she stomped off into the bedroom. I was not going to let her get away with it and followed her. Just as she was slamming the door shut, I stupidly stuck my head in to yell at her. The end result was that my neck got caught between the door and the wall, I cried and cried because it was so bloody painful, and my mother screamed at both of us.
In recent years, she often pissed me off because she would filch stuff from my room and then brazenly deny that she did so. But in my regular raids on her room, I would often find my things stashed somewhere deep in the bowels of her wardrobe, things that I knew were missing and things I hadn’t known were gone. As a poor student who earned her keep by giving tuition, you can understand the sense of outrage I had felt then. Plus, she often worked late (it’s the Company) and would come home grumpy and not speaking to anyone. Basically, I never saw much of her, even before she moved out to stay on her own.
But despite everything, she was the one who took the first step to help me land the job at the Company when the previous one was shut down. She got me my gym membership at a 40% discount because she is a part-time instructor there. She would listen to me, patiently, whenever I vent my frustrations of feeling stifled now that I am no longer a roaming reporter but a research person yada-yada.
Actually, I think I will miss her when she leaves the Company to become a full-time gym instructor. While I am happy that she will be doing something that she enjoy so much, I am also sad that our sojourns, be it swimming at the gym when the team goes off for “editorial lunches” with the vendors leaving me sad and lonely or sipping our favourite teh halia at Amoy Street food market at inappropriate times, will be ending.
It won’t be the same at the Company without her anymore.
Me and the family last year at my convocation
(PS: If anybody reads Simply Her, do turn to page 90 of the current issue. The Sista has a full-page feature about her!)