Merry Christmas!...... Bah Humbug More Like!

Howdy Internet land!



Well it's almost Xmas day, and to be honest, I bloody hate it! I never used to hate it. Not until my younger sister started going out with her golden boyfriend and pretty soon our family Xmas came to include him.



I suppose I'm sounding very much a jealous bitch, but please let me tell you why I can't stand my younger sister and her precious boyfriend. Maybe I'll have a few of you on my side when I've finished!



I was only two years old when the golden daughter Deborah Jane was born. Unlike me, Deborah had beautiful golden blond curls, snow white skin and crystal blue eyes. This was a stark comparison to my jaundice looking olive skin, dark green eyes and plain brown curls. My mother idolised Deborah and I'm clueless as to why. I've always done better, looked prettier in my adult years and worked harder.

At first I thought it was because she was younger than me. Debbie was the baby. This was the conclusion I came to as a child. I would regularly get a beating for her mistakes and when I tried to explain I was accused of lying. Even my dear old granddad would tell me he felt sorry for me as I always copped the blame for the both of us. Of course, I was older (a whole 2 years!) and should have known better!

It wasn't just when we got into mischief that I would be aware of the differential treatment my mother displayed. I must have been around 8 or 9, and Deb's 6 or 7. We had gone to Blackpool to stay with some friends. They had managed to get us a bungalow belonging to some relatives to stay in for our trip. We arrived late and we were all eager to get to bed. My mother explored the house with myself and Debs wanting to sort our sleeping arrangements out. She stumbled upon a very small box bedroom. Taking one look she muttered 'Oh, this is where Jennifer will sleep tonight' before opening the door to what she believed to be the second bedroom. The second bedroom was not to be however, as the door lead onto a draughty conservatory. In the conservatory was a rickety old sofa and the wind could be heard howling around it's plastic roof. I was secretly contented, knowing I had the cosier room; but my bubble of smugness was soon to be burst when I heard my mother say, this time in a louder voice, 'Actually, this is where Jennifer will sleep, Debbie will have the other room.'

I spent the night freezing, under a bath towel and my dad's leather jacket, whilst Deborah was warm and snug under a nice duvet.

Then, when I reached 13 I began to put on a little puppy fat. Mainly due to my lack of interest in playing out on my bike and a growing interest in Take That, boys, music and TV. I had reached my full height of 5'6 and grew from a skinny kid to a chubby sized 14 teenager complete with angry red spots and mono brow. At this stage in my life I began to assume Debbie was favoritised as she was still slim and pretty, while I was an ugly, spotty heifer.

However Deb's life shadowed mine for a while and at 13 she too put on weight. Deb was 5'9, a whole three inches taller than me. Even though she reached a size 16, my mother never made the same cold comments about Deb's needing to cut out chocolate. When Deb complained to my mum she was fat, my mother would casually reply telling her not to be silly, she was tall and looked better for a few extra pounds. When I was 12 and just beginning to get chubby my mother would visit the cake shop and buy her and Debbie bacon turnovers and cream eclairs whilst handing me a lukewarm tomato soup (tomato being the only soup flavour I don't like and have never liked) simultaneously telling me 'It's either tomato soup or nothing'.

I completed my GCSE's at 16, gaining 2 A's, 3 B's and 5 C's. Really bloody decent grades. I did better than all of my friends and although I'm no genius, I was clearly above average. It wasn't until two whole years later when Debbie flunked hers with 4 C's, 3 D's, 2's E and an F, that my parents turned around and told me... 'Actually Jennifer, you did do quite well in your GCSE's didn't you? '

Yeah, I did. Thanks folks.

Then at 18, whilst working full time after I had finished college, combined with my growing passion for appetite suppressing class A drugs, such as ecstasy, I began to lose a substantial amount of weight very quickly.

Within four months I shrunk from a size 16 to a size 10, losing 2.5 stone. I was definitely far more attractive than Debbie now. Debbie must have grown to a size 20 at one point, yet was still the apple of my mother's eyes.

From the age of 16 I've always worked. I've worked two jobs when I've needed to. In fact, I have only been out of work for around 3 months maximum in my 13 years of working life. Debbie worked sporadically from the age of 16 until 22, when she got her first proper job. Of course, when she did my mother was ecstatic. Completely blind to the fact I had been doing the same for 6 years at the age of 22.

Debbie has been arrested for drunk and disorderly. My mother has found a considerable amount of hash in Debbie's room (cannabis resin). Debbie has come home drunk and off her nut on pills, broke her key in the lock, rung the doorbell waking the whole house up, only to be let in by my mother. Debbie has almost burnt the house down twice whilst cooking food after a night on the piss. Yet she's still the favourite. Why? Can somebody please tell me why?

However, me and Deb's were still pretty cool until around 2003. I was 22 and Deb was 20. I was on my third serious boyfriend, all of which has been detested due to their skin colour. Mainly by my racist father but my mother made it clear she didn't improve either. No matter how happy I was, because my happiness clearly wasn't an important factor with regards to my choice of partner!

My parent's discontent didn't bother me though. I was sure Deb would be subjected to the same torture when she was brave enough to bring her boyfriends home. Oh Lordie Me! How wrong can one get! Debbie met Clifford in 2003 and Debbie just happened to coincide his introduction to the family right after my terrible, terrible partner split with me. Whether this was a clever ploy on her behalf to ensure Clifford was well received I'll never know, but it wouldn't surprise me. The only good thing about Cliff is the fact he hates drugs.

Debbie too followed my lead by loosing weight at 18 due to a love of drugs, but since she's been with Cliff she's grown from a slim size 10 to around a 14 at her slim-est and usually a 16-18 (.......but has grown to a size 20 on occasions!!) thanks to his hatred of class A's.

So since 2003 our family Xmas has been ruined by Debbie and Clifford arranging to do their big present swap at our present opening time. Clifford has young brothers and sisters and they didn't think it was fair for them to watch Debbie and Cliff opening the thousand presents they had bought for each other, so they decided that I would be graced with that pleasure instead. Cliff's nothing special, average looking, getting a bit fat as he gets older, hair's receding a bit, boring job, totally unoffensive and nice. Damn nice. Too bloody nice. So of course, my parents LOVE him. Compared to my street boyz he's an angel from above.

So, since 2003 I've been subjected to a sickening Christmas watching Debbie and Cliff acting like a pair of teenagers. It's been 7 years, yet you would think they hadn't reached 2 bleeding weeks the way they carry on. My mum forks out a good £100 on buying gifts for Cliff. Not to sound even more bitter, but the most she's ever got my boyfriends' has been the free present from the 3 for 2 offer at Boots.

Cliff really really sucks up to my parents. He's a brilliant actor and plays the lost, little, polite boys very very well. When ever he's over he's always offering to do things for my parents. The end result is that I look like a fucking lazy bitch, but boy, when the golden couple are about the only place you'll find me is in the garden, chain smoking, avoiding them.

Tomorrow I'm gonna reach my parent's house around midday and I'm leaving straight after lunch, as my cats will be on their own. My mother has told me that I cannot bring my pets, as it's strictly no pets tomorrow at their house. I can bet you £1,000 that Deb's will turn up with her dog and that's be fine.

I know Deb's is gonna give my mother the grandchild she's crying for before I can even find a bleeding turkey baster and that kinda hurts. I always hoped that was the one thing I could do first. Being the oldest and all. I don't know why but I do still desperately try to please my mum and do better than Debs. It should be the younger sister looking up to the older one. We couldn't be more unlike.

Oh, I never told you, the reason I truly detest my sister. We got on ok before Clifford. After nights on the lash she would gingerly knock on my door knowing I had not long/just arrived and may have a spare line of cocaine, or slither of E. She would often sleep in my room after we polished off some of mum's wine which was accompanied by a couple of lines and a couple of splifs. Provided by me. Then Clifford came and she got too big for her boots; thinking she was something special, and I clearly was a piece of shit. The Grande Finale happened the last time we had our little extra drinking session after our nights out.

I had a good half a gram left of this proper potent shit. It numbed your whole face and filled you with rushing confidence. Although me and my sister never drunk together, our network of friends were close. Deb's had got wind of my coma inducing cocaine and wanted in. She knocked on the door before slowly opening it a few inches, poking the bribe bottle of Jack Daniel's through the door,... abusing my happy, loved up, chatty, drunk and coked up vibe... (Oh, ok, I also had like a 3rd of a Triangle Mitibishi, but that wore off ages ago... But I was certainly more loved up than a coke head)

I invited her in and we got chatting. She told me how she had cheated on Cliff when he had been away for the weekend. Finally, she began her rant about why she disliked by boyfriends...


' You are the lowest of the low. You're a dirty, fucking n*gger lover. You sleep with the lowest people in society. Your children will be dirty, fucking, half breeds'

I could continue.

So, that is why I can't stand her. She wouldn't say that to her black friends or her black colleagues. She's a bitch.

Right, I'm off. All I can say is dear God, please make the fours hours go quickly tomorrow.

Much-o Love-o

Lady CP