So because I’m unemployed and bored I’ve decided to participate in more hashtag based social media trends such as #tbt.
I thought this was going to be a fun 20 mins spent laughing at awkward photos of my middle class childhood, instead I uncovered a rather horrific image that single handedly explains our family politics and why I suffered from severe middle-child-syndrome as a tween:
At first glance, it just looks like a happy scene from a regular child’s birthday party where two brothers are about to blow out the candles on their cakes.
But wait, the older….. it’s not a boy! It’s a girl! Yes ladies and gentleman that little boy child is actually 9 year old me! But my transgender hair cut was not the reason for my middle child angst. Keep looking…..
That’s right.
The cakes.
THE CAKES.
WHAT. THE. WHAT!?!!!??
Okay, to be fair to my mum this photo requires a bit of backstory. My little brother was born one day before me (I was the 6th of January and he was pulled out of my mother’s womb on the 5th. Considering she had a cesarean I still don’t fully understand why they couldn’t have scheduled the procedure for at least the 4th or the 8th. It’s a question that will haunt me to my grave). I spent majority of my childhood acting as though these little injustices didn’t bother me, suppressing the anger into tiny balls of rage that I would later unleash on my mother unprovoked at inappropriate times. She, in return, would punish these tantrums by taking me to the hairdresser and getting my hair cut like a boy. Anyway.…. it was not uncommon for us to have “joint” birthday parties with the family and close friends. I mean most likely what’s happened here is that this party was my little brother’s ‘main’ birthday party and I’m just chiming in with my shitty grocery store-bought white chocolate mud cake because I had in fact already had a separate bday party with my friends from school a few weeks earlier….
BUT STILL. I mean why bother getting me a cake at all? It was bad enough that we were having his birthday party on my actual birthday, did we also have to use the cakes as some sort of physical representation of my insignificance? That cake was a proverbial slap in the face for me. The ‘Happy Birthday’ candle holder might as well have read “You’re turning 9 and are no longer the cute one in the family so no one gives a shit about you anymore”. You can actually see the disappointment in my face as I subtly sideways glance at my brothers amazeballs cake.
Which brings me onto my second point……
My little brother.
Apart from the fact that he is dressed like a poor mans Ernie from Sesame St (but again, it was the nineties so all fashion faux pas are forgiven) my Mum clearly has to restrain him from straight up attacking my cake.
It’s such typical youngest child behaviour. He has this amazing beautiful cake in front of him and yet all he wants to do is smash into my cake and confiscate the last shred of dignity I have left in this photo. The fact that he has his own delicious, glorious cake is of little relevance to him. Despite the fact that we were all there to celebrate HIM, that HE had this kick ass cake and that HE had the gall to be born a day before me thus ruining my special day for the rest of my childhood, HE still was not satisfied with that. No. He still wanted a piece of my cake, just because it was mine and exclusively meant for me.
So I guess the lesson of this throw back thursday revelation is this: Don’t try to have joint birthday parties for your children. Because they will both just end up resentful and jealous of each other’s cake.
whensaturnreturns 