With my sisters and me, it’s pure love. Nothing can separate us. Whenever we’re together, we’re always talking or laughing like crazy reading People magazine. We give each other advice on love, the spotlight, and beauty, and lots of kisses.  Youhou!

Everyone says I love you.

Nothing can separate us… except for a little leather skirt from Zara.

We do what we do and time goes by as we get closer and closer to the day I’m leaving. And then one day I get to my room, and I find my two sisters huddled over my suitcase in the middle of a full, thorough inspection.

My sister: Wooooh! look at these Tributes!!! I love your jean shirt! Your little leather Zara skirt!!! You gonna give it to me?

Me: Wait wait here’s what we can do. No way I’m giving it to you. But when I get back to Zara, if the skirt is still there, I’ll grab you one and send it over. I like it too much. I just can’t hand it over like that. Even with torture.

Laetitia: Hey no worries. Relax. Just give it to me now and you won’t have to go to the post office. They’ll still be there at Zara and if not, I’ll send it back to you.

Sacha (with my RayBans on her face): Can I have your RayBans?

Me: But you have the exact same pair!

Sacha: But yours are better (!!?).

Me: Okay…. Here, let me think about it… NO.

And then me again, after a second of reflection: Hey…. You didn’t exactly jump at the chance to lend me your gladiators, did you ? And you, let me get my hands on your Chanel bag and then maybe we’ll talk.

Yeeeaaaaah you got it, even if I am the oldest, I am not at all the angel of the family! I’M THE WORST!!! What do you expect? Even before they inspected my entire bag, I made my way through every last item in their wardrobes and already had a list ready as long as my arms of everything I wanted. Chanel bag and no questions asked.

Laetitia: Chanel does not equal a Zara skirt. Maybe I’m a little desperate for Zara (There’s no Zaras in Corsica)(Hell in Paradise!), but I’m not that desperate. C’mon, let’s go downstairs. I’m making some banana milk-shakes.

Can you feel the tension building? You get how crazy we are? Pfffff, THAT’S NOTHING!!! So just to be brief because we can’t spend all day on this and because you already get what I’m saying, fast-forward a little to the last day before I leave.

Sacha (My sunglasses still on her face) : Your sunglasses.

Me: No.

Sacha (a bit perturbed, throws the sunglasses on the bed.) : Okay, your strappy sandals.

Me: Okay, your gladiators.

Sacha (Again, perturbed, 14 years-old) : Noooooo! That’s the ONLY THING I HAVE and you ALWAYS WANT TO TAKE EVERYTHING FROM ME!

Laeti and me (cracking up) : Woooooooo haha little Ms. Victim here! The only thing I have, what the hell is that?!?!

Laeti (suddenly serious again): Your skirt, your ballet flats.

Me: Okay for the ballet flats, not for the skirt.

Laeti (outraged): Hmmm. If it’s going to be like that, we’re not talking to you any more. C’mon Sacha. Downstairs. I’ll make you a banana milkshake.

They leave with a royal stride, heads held high, outraged. Very very VERY perturbed.

How ungrateful… If it’s going to be like that, I’ll get out my outraged self as well and I’ll just pack my bag. No one can see me, but I’ve got my head just as high and I’m packing up just as royally.

And then I hear my mother: Wait… What are you doing all alone with your little outraged self?

Me, (34 years-old): It’s my sisters, they ALWAYS WANT TO TAKE EVERYTHING FROM ME!!!

Mother: Well isn’t that nice! That means they think you’re beautiful, they love you, they want to look just like you!!! And wasn’t it you last time who got on your sister’s last nerve with your “Chanel bag. Chanel. Chanel bag. Chanel. Bag. Chanel.” ?! C’mon, my dear little love bum. I’ll make you a coffee, we’ll kiss and make up with the girls. You want a what? Ok my lovergirl, no coffee, I’ll make you a banana milkshake.

My mother, suddenly: Oh wait, I wanted to ask you my dear… You mind if I hold on to your perfume?

Translation : Tim Sullivan