My older sister Andi has always been prone to exaggeration and general overemphasis. There are only 18 months between us, so she often employed this technique to get her way. For example, she once assured me ‘one million per cent’ that I looked great in a yellow swimming costume because the only other one in the shop was blue, and she wanted it for herself!
There’s a flip side to her dramatic declarations, though. When she met her future fiancé, Dean, she once cancelled a date with him because of the tiniest spot on her skin, peering in a mirror and wailing, ‘You can see it from space!’
‘You so cannot!’ I scoffed, pretty certain that Dean wouldn’t notice if she had an extra head – not because he was unobservant, but because he was a nice bloke who was madly in love with her.
We were both in our 20s by then, sharing a flat together. If Andi’s overexcitement could be annoying, she got fed up that I tended to understate things.
Like the time I rang her
