personality type

fanny packs, personality types, and why we're here

Kat and Miriam, Patrick and Gen

Kat and Miriam, Patrick and Gen

Welcome! We’re Genevieve and Katherine- sisters, moms, wives, fledgling writers. We created thesisterpost as our little way of empowering women through sisterhood. Kath and I have our own lives, but we depend on each other in so many ways. Sometimes one of us has a craptastic day and needs to vent. Sometimes one of us needs to know what baby bottle to buy/movie to rent/shoes go better with an outfit. Sometimes one of us needs to be talked out of buying $700 worth of sweaters at Madewell.

 

Our relationship can be summarized by one anecdote which occurred in Disney World, circa 1998. Kath and I were about seven and ten, respectively. We were rocking denim shorts, fanny packs, and matching Winnie the Pooh t-shirts. It was an Epcot day, and we were waiting in line for a show at the Wonders of Life Pavilion (RIP). The friendly cast member handling the line asked our family where we were from. My parents replied that we were from New Orleans. They made some more polite conversation when all of a sudden the cast member looked at Kath and me. He gasped. "You girls- did you know that you have Pooh on your shirts?!" 

I was mortified. I could feel my face turning purple. Next to me, Kath smiled at the guy and laughed. Then she saw my expression, and her smile faded quickly. 

We were let in to the show, away from the horrible cast member. I felt so relieved to be done with him. As we took our seats, a microphone screeched. It was the same guy, now standing at the front of the room. He gave the standard Disney show rules speech, ending with "And enjoy your show!" He then paused dramatically and announced with a grin, "And would the two little girls from New Orleans with Pooh on their shirts please have their mother give them a wash." 

The audience chuckled. In shock, I felt my eyes start filling up with hot tears. A minute later, I was sobbing.. Everyone was looking at me. Everyone thought I was disgusting. I couldn't wait to burn the stupid shirt. Kath sat next to me, bewildered. I don't know what she was thinking.

Okay, now this is Kat.  Gen has been talking, and it's my turn to interject and tell you what I was thinking this whole time.  This Disney guy automatically became my new favorite person.  He was famous (because he used a microphone and worked at Disney), and he was paying attention to my family and me.  He was the highlight of my trip the minute he asked us where we were from and paid any sort of attention to us.  

When we were sitting in the audience, I felt special when I heard his voice over the microphone, because I knew this guy!  And then he mentioned us.  My heart started beating faster, I looked around at my mom and dad, unable to contain my smile, and we nodded ferociously and grinned stupidly because we knew he was talking about us!  Then I turned to share my excitement with my siblings, and my heart immediately sank when I saw Gen's face.  She was sad?  What was wrong?  She looked like she was going to throw up.  When I saw her crying, I realized maybe I shouldn't be happy.  Maybe it was a bad thing that the famous man called out to us in the show.  But it couldn't be!  WE WERE FAMOUS, FOR GOODNESS SAKES.  I was so confused but decided to just watch the show until I could figure out what was going on with Gen and how I should be feeling about this whole Pooh situation.

The show finally ended and we got up to leave. I was still sobbing; Kath was holding my hand. She was sobbing too, but somehow she didn't look sad. She was looking around at the crowd to see if anyone recognized her as the New Orleans girl in need of a washing machine.

Kat here again.  Gen's exactly right.  Once the show ended, I looked around at everyone leaving the theater to see if they were looking for me, because at this point, all of Disney World would for sure want our autographs.  In my mind, my life wasn't going to get any better after that point; I had peaked, and this was my moment of glory.  

I asked my mom why Gen was upset, and she mentioned something about how Gen was embarrassed because she doesn't like the idea of being known for having Pooh on her shirt.  This was where I reached a fork in my road to fame.  Do I just move forward, bask in my glory and start looking for people who wanted my autograph, or do I do what Gen does?  I always did what she did.  She was embarrassed.  Should I be embarrassed?  I ended up just choosing some weird mixture of pretending to cry and secretly wanting to cling to my fame.

We survived the experience mostly unscathed. Obviously no one cared at all about our shirts, for better or worse. (Our little brother still loves Winnie the freaking Pooh, so clearly he wasn't traumatized.) Now it's just a funny memory which pretty much tells you all you need to know about our personalities.  

Gen's shy; I just want to be famous. Gen's the one who doesn't want attention from this blog; I'm the one who wants to tell everyone I know and even people I just met about the blog so that they can tell me how funny I am or that they tried my gumbo recipe and thought it was incredible (I have so much humility it's scary).  

No matter what, she's my sister and one of the people whose opinions I care most about; I think she's so wise.  I believe this is why we wanted to do a blog together. We each value the other's opinions so much, so we want the other person's opinions and tips out there for others to see.

Our whole lives, we’ve been told how lucky we are to have each other. We are.  We hope you find this to be a warm, happy, funny, honest corner of the internet. We plan to share lots of stories, ideas, recipes, and advice with each other and with you.

 

Sometimes one of us can’t be talked out of buying all of the Madewell sweaters. But that’s fine- now I can borrow them.

This us (Gen on the left and me on the right) eating one of our favorites, nachos.  Old habits die hard, as we are still addicted, and Gen still leaves the congealed part for me.

This us (Gen on the left and me on the right) eating one of our favorites, nachos.  Old habits die hard, as we are still addicted, and Gen still leaves the congealed part for me.