Sister’s approval, as though it were on offer

It’s not the wedding so much that bothers me.  I don’t really want out of it.  What I don’t like is the competition, the judgement.  The requirement to audition again for the same part I’ve been refused for over and over again.  Pretty young woman.  And I’ll fail again, no matter how much angst I fight through pulling this all together.  No matter how much I spend, how many weeks I shop, how many hours I work out at the gym, or how far I travel to expensive shops.  All the dance classes and makeup and heels will not turn Lara’s sister into a gorgeous, bubbly, feminine ravishing thing.  I’m still poor, sick, unschooled, unemployed and slightly awkward. 

You see, this isn’t going to change anyone’s mind about me.  There’s no single men here to impress.  Only families, ours and theirs, who’ve made up their minds, and the couple’s paired-up friends.  Why am I bothering?  Who is this for?  Another evening of underscoring my loneliness with the unsatisfying company of others.  Weeks of work to play daughter What-a-Pity, sister of bride Perfectly-Adequate.  I’m doing this to impress her.  Hoping to somehow win her approval.  Afraid that she’s already long ago dismissed me as another incompetent member of the hopeless family she wishes to leave. 

I’m trying to prove to her that I can pull it together.  That I can play the part, that I have the basic competence to play Ordinary Girl of Mainstream Society.  Because that’s the only role she respects.  Trying to prove I’m not our parents.  I’m not the family or the clan or the church she left.  I’m not so utterly kooky I can’t dress up nice for a wedding and be charming and pleasant to her friends. 

It’s another rejection I’m trying to fight.  It’s not what I’m doing, it’s why I’m doing it that’s the problem.  Screw you, sister.  You’ve dismissed me as not the sort of person you like.  Don’t you think I’ve done the same to you?  Do I seek you out?  Do I suggest girly nights out?  Do I invite you over?  We connect over one thing only, and that is the exploration of emotional baggage from our puzzling and dysfunctional family.  We talk about our parents, that’s all.  What do we have in common?  Our parents.  That’s all sisters are.