Mom, she’s stealing my stuff

Is sisterhood the most loving and intoxicating relationship?

Aug 18, 2026

∙ Paid

time for your best 5-minute read

Hi, I’m Tássia. Today, I’m sharing a memoir about my little sis. After the essay, there’s a mini tarot reading and journal guide to help you explore your own sisterhood story.

It’s been thirty years since I lost my little sister’s favorite tiger backpack in the school gymnasium. She has never let me forget it. And yet, I still remember when she broke my bracelet maker on Christmas Day, just a few hours after I got it from Santa. Instead of beads, she inserted domino pieces into the machine. One day, our mom came home with one chocolate for us to share. Before she sliced it into two equal parts, my sister stuffed the whole thing in her tiny mouth. My mom’s only reaction was ‘spit it out!’ while my sister tried to chew it without letting anyone take it away. She was only three when that happened, but I think that instinct to take what she wanted probably explains why she always had the best clothes in her closet. However, she usually saved them for special occasions, and I was left to borrow them, or they’d never be worn anyway.

I was two years, two months, and two weeks old when Láisa was born. “She’s monster ugly” was the first thing I said when I saw her. Or that’s what the rumor says in the family. Little did I know that my mom had not only given birth to a second child, but she was giving me the most precious gift a girl can have: a sister.

As a big sis, I held her with both my hands so she wouldn’t run away.

I have always loved and honored my role as the big sis, caring for her, paying attention to what she wanted, overprotecting sometimes, and hearing from her that I acted as if she couldn’t do things. It’s a rollercoaster of intimacy because knowing someone this closely from the very beginning and sharing the developing years creates another level of bonding. We carry the same childhood traumas and blessings; we grew up navigating the same issues with our parents. Despite having different perspectives, no one can better understand me than her.

Going through our teenage years together, only two years apart, meant we were almost bound to say the most horrible things to each other when we were angry—there was no room to cool off. Lucky me, she’s funny and never lets anything bad linger between us. I wanted to kill her when she made me laugh while I was angry with her. But I couldn’t because I would almost pee my pants. She taught me to recover quickly, apologize faster, and move on. We’d certainly forget it in a few days anyway.

But it wasn’t like we could hurt each other without consequences. Our parents gave us clear rules. First, we should always protect each other. If something happened at school, we had to be on the same side. Snitching on each other was highly discouraged. If I snitched on my sister to my parents, I would hear something, too. So we’d better stay partners in crime.

There was only one time Mom had to break this rule: my sister told her I’d had sex and smoked pot when I was 15. My dad could never imagine that; otherwise, I’d have been so screwed—or that’s what we thought. Sorry, Mom. My curiosity accidentally tied the three of us together with my secret. I comforted my mom, saying I used a condom and I didn’t like any of it—the boy, the sex, or the smoking. I was just curious.

That opened a gap between me and my sister. I think it was the age: she was 13, I was 15. Things change a lot for a girl between these two ages. Or at least they did for me. Fortunately, it didn’t last. We were always together, going to the same school, hanging out with the same group of friends.

I am the big sis, but I have no idea how I would survive without her. Láisa makes fun of everything until it’s not fun anymore. She can’t miss a joke. True. Even annoying sometimes. But if things get serious, she’s the best friend to have around. The one who will book you tickets and pick you up at the airport. She has given me money, books, time, ideas, support, the best massage, and hugs. She still has amazing clothes she barely wears, and it makes me insane! Last time I went to Brazil, I secretly took a cap from her closet, not to lose my touch.

I hope I’m doing it right as a big little sis. Can’t wait to share a bed with her and sing along to our 2000s favorites, starting with “With Arms Wide Open,” making fun of the guy’s voice.