I'm not my brother's keeper!

This just in: Everything in the entire universe is my fault.

But I shall be more specific for the time being. After all if I am going to be responsible for all the negative and terrible things in the world I might as well give you a particular example. Then you all can judge for yourself how evil and vile of a human being I truly am.


My adult brother got a tattoo.


Are we all gasping and fleeing from the demon girl yet? No? Then clearly you are not my mother.





I have tried to accept the fact that being the oldest in my family means that I have to deal with stuff that my brothers don’t. Even though they are both bigger than me I feel a sense of responsibility over them. And yes I do get a bit bossy with them from time to time but I never mean any harm. I don’t go out of my way to police their lives. I just tell them how I see things and that I see potential disaster in their future.

In the grand scheme of things getting a tattoo doesn’t rate very high on my radar of caring. A young man of 18 faces a lot more “evils” in this world than a bit of ink needled into his arm. Beer, sexually transmitted diseases (my brother will never have sex for the record okay! He is still 3 years old in my mind), unwanted pregnancies, and drugs are the temptations I worry about for my little brothers. So given the fact neither of my brothers have been to jail, gotten anyone knocked up, had a drug overdose, or caused anyone bodily harm I am pretty happy with them. To expect anything more from them would just be my personal preference in life and I am not going to force my values onto them.

My mother is another case. Even though I feel as if my brothers have gotten away with much more than I ever have my mother still has some hard core rules. One apparently is that tattoos are the devil. They lead into drugs ya’ll. She seriously thinks that if my brother gets inked he will become a bad person instead of her son with a picture permanently inked on his body.

He got his first tattoo on his 18th birthday and that went swimmingly. As in there was a lot of glaring and we weren’t allowed to mention said tattoo. When friends and co-workers would ask about it there would be moaning that we were out to get her. I am pretty sure my brother had a crappy birthday and a pretty miserable life at home for about a month.

So a few weeks ago my brother informed me that he would be getting a second tattoo. I really wish he hadn’t. I don’t want to know such information. When shit hits the fan I want to be on the other side of the door covering my ears going LALALA. I don’t want it to be blamed on me. But he did tell me with the full knowledge I would tell my mother to “soften” the blow. Curse my position as the older sister.

Personally had I been my brother and I was going to get a second tattoo I wouldn’t have told anyone and just done it. And done it in a spot where mom would never see it. But that is just me.

Today I was informed that my brother got his second tattoo. And how was I informed? By screaming and ranting by my mother. I was told that it was my responsibility to talk him out of foolish ideas and to be the voice of reason. I am an awful spy and she can’t count on me for anything. And somehow she walked away with the feeling that there was going to be a third tattoo when what I really said was something different.

So clearly people you see how this is all my fault. You see how kidnapped my brother and tied him down to the chair. You see how I funded this diabolical plan to drive my mother insane. You see how that my countless tattoos have influenced my brother into getting his own collection (or in reality I cry when getting my blood drawn so the idea of a tattoo makes me want to pass out).

Or maybe you can see me at my wits end. I am tired of getting blamed for crap I didn’t do. To put it honestly I am a bit of a goody goody and what do I have to show for it? An angry mother who thinks I can control the actions of my adult siblings. I won’t say that I regret being a good girl because I don’t think I missed out on being “bad”. But part of the reason why I was a good girl was to please my mother. It saddens me that this will never be enough for my mother and now I am being blamed for things I have no control over. And I am also sure she is burning bridges with my siblings when they fail her good boy criteria.

In short….if you are a rebellious teen who wants to get some ink done do so after you move out of your parent’s house. If not for yourself think of your older sibling who shall surly be blamed for your misdeeds. Think of us forgotten older children who apparently carry and create your burden. If you don’t….. just remember we are more wicked and spiteful than mom and dad and will probably live longer than they will anyway!