Sisterhood of the Traveling Underpants...

I happen to be greatly blessed by God in terms of sisters. Brothers-- nah, God didn't seem to think I'd need any of those. It seems my father shares a certain, shall we say, foible with Henry VIII. Luckily, Dad knew to give up on having sons, effectively truncating any talk of beheadings. (Though, not having to continue a dynasty may have had something to do with that...) Well, we did have to get a male dog to placate him, but that's besides the point.

Now, sisters, those, I have. Of course, I've got my three biological sisters (yes, all the same father, as my sister replied to her inquisitive doctor in south carolina), but I've also been blessed with an incredible amount of (surprisingly anti-effeminate) females who I am rather close with. Thus, as I will obligatorily state, I see God in sisterhood.

As a female, I feel that part of the package is to be slightly genetically programed to tend towards falsity and jealousy towards other women. But, miraculously, that can be overcome with a little bit of grace. (Not that the claws don't fly at times, but hey, we can blame that on something else, right?!)

First, I'll talk about the sisters who originate from the same womb as I did. (Hey, gross! I come from a third-hand womb!) They are invaluable. We've said some horrible things to each other over the years, but we are without a doubt, always there. Besides, fights with them are always the most memorable. Like the time I threw a box at my older sister. Or the time I repeatedly slammed a door against the wall... with my little sister behind it. Or the time my thanksgiving blessing that I shared with the dinner table was that my sister was moving out so I could get her room. You may think that's way off topic, but when it comes down to it, anything we've said, anything we've done... we've forgiven. And that's just beautiful. Not that I go out looking for excuses to offend them (most of the time, that is), but it is nice to know that those ingenues are in it for life, my compatriots through to the epilogue.

And for the record, as far as my sisters are concerned, no such sisterhood as the 'traveling underpants' actually exists. But, I must say, if we were ever to instate such a tradition, that would be our best bet in terms of garments. And to exacerbate, it would most likely be the sisterhood of the traveling granny panties.

And then there are my other friends who are simply too dear to me to call anything but sisters. The sisterhood we share is special. It's voluntary. That's quite shocking at times, that somebody who isn't related is actually willing to hang around. For the most part, they're the ones that I laugh with (see yesterday's post) and they are also the ones that I cry with.

We have great quantities of fun together, and the best part is that while they do not share my blood, the majority are in Communion with me in Christ's blood. And I mean that quite literally. And they are the ones that hold me accountable. They're the ones who have the job of telling me when I'm being obnoxious. They're the ones who try to protect me. They make up for my shortcomings, and share in my tears, my embarrassments, my snorts, my food, and my bed.

They put up with it all-- my shrieks of obsessive-compulsive horror, "Get your shoes off my bed!!" or "Don't stand on my rug, you're wrinkling it!". They've put up with my sending them crashing down into bathtubs with shower curtain and rod soon to follow. (I really can't tell you how much I wish none of those were true.)

So, while I certainly won't being joining any sororities any time soon, I can rest assured that at least one of my sisters will always have my back. She may have to pull her claws out of me first (joke!) but she'll always be on my side.

So, thank you, God, for the beautiful women in my life. If I were a man, I would be remarkably lucky.

[On a (relatively) unrelated note: I have a follower! This is great! I feel like Lord Voldemort! "Yay, I've gained a follower! She will be a most faithful buck wheater!" Now, I'll give her a beautiful tattoo of poop with a duck flying out of it on her arm so I can call her to me whenever I please, and after that, I will give her the privilege to lick my shoes whenever she so desires..." As an extra bit of trivia, (or just so you don't think I am crazy) I just referenced two childhood traumas that my sister put me through.]