Do you share your food easily? With whom, and why?

I don’t. Do not touch the food on my plate, do not take a sip out of my glass, do not sip out of my straw, do not put something off your plate onto mine.

To put a face to my story, Tracy from her college yearbook.

“WHAT? Are you kidding?” I said to her surprised.

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I stared at my toothbrush. Then dropped it in the garbage can. I grabbed a new one. I was not like Tracy at all however, Tracy and I are close. We are so much alike in our ways that mom said we were twins born apart and attached by the soul. So to Tracy, she loved that, and doing things like that with her brother didn’t bother her a bit.

“No I’m not, give me half of yours,” she said.

“I’ll get one next time. I’m in a hurry.”

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My older sister Tracy was the opposite. Her twin Lori was more like me, don’t touch my food.

“Give me half of yours,” she said.

I did and she popped it in her mouth and continued to chew it. I stared at her with a surprised look.

Am I the bitch for never wanting to talk to my sister again because of something she said while talking back to me?

“What?” she said. “Dad always told us we were made of the same stuff.”

I yelled after her, “THERE’S NEW BRUSHES IN THE CUPBOARD TRACY!”

“Yeah, out of your mouth. Where else?”

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Once I was chewing gum. Tracy, then seventeen looked at me.