Keep your (dry) hands off my stuff!

roseointment

I don’t like to share.  I do teach kindergarten, so I fake it at school.

Sharing is fine for other people; it’s great in theory, it’s just not for me.

My therapist believes this phenomenon is rooted in the fact that I was born a twin.  An identical twin.

For all you singletons out there, being a twin equates to never ever having anything of your own; it begins before birth, hence the term:  womb-mate.

I’ve shared everything with my sister from birthday cakes to boyfriends.

My husband, Jim, is the first man who could tell us apart.

So I married him.

But I still don’t like to share, even with him.

True confession Proof:

Jim:  Hun, remember to order more of that lotion you like; you know…the one you used to keep on your bathroom counter?

Me: It’s on my list; thanks.  Why are you telling me that?

Jim: Well, I noticed it was gone.

Me: Oh.  Well thanks, but I’m not out of it.  I just started hiding it from you because I noticed you were using it.

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About tuesday2

My husband tells me I talk too much. I tell him that I have a lot to say. Here’s the solution… Welcome to my blog!
This entry was posted in behavior, birthday, equality, fairness, Humor, husbands and wives, Learning in utero, random acts of kindness, sharing, siblings, thoughts on marriage, Tradition and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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