Happy 27th Birthday, Middle Sister.

Chrissy, the one who loves all things chocolate, (As do I, just for the record.) turns 27 today, March 1st. However, Chrissy has never professed to be someone who is healthy or has she ever gone on a diet as far as I can recall. ("You can overdose on vitamins", she tells our mother.) She simply does what the rest of us should do: eats what her body's hungry for when her body's hungry for it- which I'm pretty sure includes a piece of chocolate every day.

Chrissy is short for Christina, and she's the only Chrissy I know. I like it. Sort of ditsy and fun in that Three's Company sort of way. Today she is a pharmacist, so ditsy and fun may not be the best character traits of choice, as they would be for someone who is a writer... or a stripper.

I'm pretty sure she still goes by Chrissy, to her peers, employees and patrons at her pharmacy- but she wears suit jackets or blazers to work in order to appear more mature. And high heels to add a little more power to the job that must be so hard to do- especially when I would dare so a vast majority of her patients are older than our parents. "No really, I AM the pharmacist."

Before Chrissy, I was the only child. For three whole years. Not that I remember it. Chrissy was born at home, by midwife, in Plano, Texas. She got pneumonia when she was very young, which I knew little about at the time. I knew that mom was gone and Chrissy was sick.

When she was born, she had more hair than I did. Her hair was thick and grew rapidly. When Chrissy's hair was so long it got in the toilet, my mom chopped about 6" off right then and there. Chrissy also slept walked and my parents put a special lock on our front door that only adults could unlock. I hated that lock especially early on Saturday mornings.

Chrissy was the pickiest eater growing up. Not that she was really picky, she would eat whatever: broccoli, peas, Chinese stir fry- BUT only if she was in the mood for it. If she wasn't up for grilled cheese and split pea soup then she just wouldn't eat it. Period. There were two things that I am convinced she would have lived on: "Crackers and Cheese" or "Rice with Sprinkles." But, occasionally, she'd rather throw a tantrum at the dinner table demanding Rice and Sprinkles than eat lasagna (which I begged her to do--"just three bites" being the older, wiser sister) which usually ended in a coughing, gagging, snotty fit. Drama Queen.

Chrissy had a lisp, which improved with time and therapy, however, as children I was often the only one who could understand her. I'd have to translate for our parents, our neighbor and friends at church. I never had a problem understanding her.

She was the lean one, the gymnast, "skinny mini" and in high school broke state records in power lifting. She made cheerleader, I believe, due to her amazing tumbling ability and even played softball for one year because she was such a strong hitter. Unlike me, Chrissy is not a singer or writer or performer, but paints and draws and has a love for animals. (Again, unlike me.)

As a child she had a lop-eared rabbit and would spend hours outdoors with our dogs and cats- riding her bike or jumping on the trampoline. She always wanted to "race" me, on foot or bike, which did not appeal to me whatsoever. Why? She'd win, and I'd be winded and sweaty. Not appealing.

Now, she is a pharmacist who works her ass off. Sometimes skipping lunch, sometimes falling asleep on her sofa at 7:00pm, sometimes refusing to fill a prescription. She loves to shop and gives me her old clothes- which aren't really old at all but just "fit wrong" are the "wrong color" or are too tight, too loose, too short, or too long. She can line dance, bake delicious sugar cookies from scratch, and loves to vacuum.

I'm so lucky to have two amazing sisters, and today I celebrate Chrissy. (Perhaps with some chocolate of my own...)