“Whats this ‘village’ dress?”my sister humiliated me in front of everyone. My “gift” in return made her run away
Picture this. My Katya is a fashionista, always slim as a reed, a real style icon. And me? Just an ordinary woman. Maybe put on a bit of weight here, got a wrinkle there. Well, life happens, what can you do?
Every meeting with her turned into a tiny torture. She probably didnt mean harmjust had the “best intentions.” Shed approach, scan me with her X-ray stare, and start:
Sveta, sweetie, doesnt this dress make you look wider? Its so granny-ish.
Sveta, you need a different hairstylethis one adds five years.
Oh, girls, that lipstick! That shade went out a decade ago!
All with this sweet, pitying smile. How do you like that? As if shes doing me a favor. And after every “compliment,” my mood would sink below the floorboardsI couldnt even look in the mirror for a week.
Hurtful? Absolutely! Im no magazine cover to begin with, and now my own sister keeps prodding my sore spots.
At first, I laughed it off, changed the subject. But Moms anniversary was the last straw.
Id put so much effort into that party! Bought a new, gorgeous dress, styled my hair, did my makeup. Felt like a queen, honest!
We gathered at the restaurantguests, relatives, all dressed up and cheerful. Then Katya walks up, eyes me head to toe, and proclaims loud enough for everyone:
Sveta, what *is* this dress? Its tragiclike something Aunt Shura from the village would wear. You shouldve asked meId have picked something decent.
In that moment, the ground vanished under me. Shed just spat in my soulin front of *everyone*. And how could I enjoy the party now?
Something inside me snapped. *Enough.* No more playing doormat. My turn now. And Id prepared *very* well for this anniversary
No screaming, no scene. No need. Deep breath, my most dazzling smilethen cut it sharply mid-beam.
Katyusha!I announced, all cheer. Thank you *so* much! I *truly* appreciate your concern! Youre *such* an expert at spotting flaws in others!
She lit upprobably thought I was praising her. Bless her naivety.
Since youre so *knowledgeable*I continued, lifting the box Id prepped,I got you a gift!
The room turned to watch. I handed her the ribbon-tied box. She tore into it, likely expecting perfume or makeup.
Inside, girls? A beautifully printed certificate on premium paper: *A session with a top psychologist”How to Boost Self-Esteem Without Crushing Others.”* And of course, I read it aloudso *everyone* heard! Even the bus driver passing by!
Here, sis!I added as she gaped up at me.Thought youd find this *so* helpful. Teaches confidence *without* tearing others down! Bullseye, right?
Her face? Priceless. First confusion. Then realization. Then cheeks so red theyd shame a tomato.
Silence. Then one uncle burst out laughing. The rest followed. Every one of her barbs? Out in the open. Meant to shame meonly she ended up the joke.
The finale? Instant. Katya muttered something, grabbed her purse, and fled.
And yes, we made up. Were sisters, after all.
But guess what? Not *once* since then has she criticized my looks. Now? Just small talk about the weather. And honestly? Its *so* nice.
Thats my story. Thanks for sticking around! If you liked it, give it a thumbs-upId love that! Share your own tales in the commentsany similar drama? And if you pass this to a friend? Even better!
