When I was ten, my homegirl, Kelly, and I used to spend a lot of time together. To be honest, it was an alliance of convenience because we had no friends. She would stay over after school and while my cool big sister was out drinking cider and getting touched up in the park, we’d grab a jar of Nutella and two spoons and sneak into her bedroom.
Words can barely do justice to the forbidden exhiliarition of stepping over the threshold. The gentle untwisting of her stackable cream eyeshadows, the cold metallic thrill of slipping oh her mood ring, while Kelly slid gleefully around the carpet in her platform Red or Ded mules.
But where there's ecstasy, there’s often agony, and boy were we in for it. From Kelly's chubby little imprints on the walls and our lime green nails, my sister would always rumble us. We'd be marched on to the driveway, electric blue mascara tears running down our faces. And seeing those icy daggers of hatred in my sister’s cidery eyes, I’d tell myself all the shame wasn’t worth it while pinning the whole fucking thing on Kelly.
Since those days, Kelly's kicked the Quavers habit, got a boob job and popped out two whole sprogs. You’d think, 16 years on, I had grown up a bit, too. So did I, until I moved in with my uni friend, Lily.
Sadly, for lovely reasonable Lily, she used to be a stylist, which makes her bedroom a similar magical wonderland of thieving possibilities. Just like my big sister's tie-dye boudoir, there are a thousand things to try on and a thousand beautiful things to drop through a drain grate or cover in ketchup.
I’m creeping past her bedroom like Jamie Dornan in *The Fall,* working out which least worn items I can lift from the back of the drawers
And I cant resist. As soon as announces she's off to her boyfriend's for the weekend, my brain goes into clusterfuck mode. Soon I’m creeping past her bedroom like Jamie Dornan in The Fall. The moment the door shuts, I am in there working out which least worn items I can lift from the back of the drawers. I open every box, sinch myself into her fancy vintage underwear, while trying out new make-up looks. I appreciate now it sounds like I either fancy her or want to murder her, but I don't. I am sick. I am ill. I need help.
As soon as it’s in my clutches, it seems perfectly reasonable to pop to the shops in it. ‘She’ll never even notice,’ I say to myself. Except she will because I am about two sizes larger than her and have a much shakier grip when it comes to eating juicy snacks.
Last weekend, I came home from the pub and there was no bread or butter, so I drunkenly tried to spread olive oil on multiple Jacobs crackers. Now her extra virgin-soiled silk top lies wincing at the bottom of my washing basket.
If she asks me the whereabouts of my steals, I get very Lindsay Lohan about the whole thing
See that’s the other thing. I’m not just a borrower – I am disgusting liar. If she asks me the whereabouts of my steals, I get very Lindsay Lohan about the whole thing, spinning her a web of inconceivable untruths. And although she would never viciously whip my bum cheeks with a wet tea towel, like my sister used to, the look on her stylish little face is the emotional equivalent.
In fact, her placid attitude does nothing to deter me from my terrible ways. The closest we've got to a barney was when I borrowed her favourite vintage spring jacket and lent it to my idiot friend, Harriet. My idiot friend, Harriet, subsequently lost it and now any time the weather is slightly balmy I hide in my bedroom while she screams, ‘IF ONLY I HAD MY SPRING JACKET,’ and slams her wardrobe doors really loudly.
I know all this borrowing weirdness is genuinely affecting Lily's opinion of me, but I am finding it impossible to stop. Her stuff is just… So much better than my stuff. I am also aware she isn’t programmed to unconditionally love me, like my sister. But if I don’t stop I am worried she’ll move out. Where the hell is Kelly when you need her? It's definitely all her fault.
Follow Lucy on Twitter @lucyannhancock
Picture: Lukasz Wierzbowski
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.