My girls: The revenge of Dolly

So my girls -- or goils as we say back in Joisey -- have always been a matched set, identical twins, two peas in a pod. When I nursed my son, each one got equal time. They get equal display on the rare occasions that I flash a little decolletage. I've never done anything to make them think I would play favorites.

Now Dolly on the right side is striking out on her own and establishing a new identity as a bad girl, while her plain-Jane sister, the good twin, quietly continues to do her homework, help with household chores, etc. I feel kind of bad that I'm ignoring her while Dolly and her prima donna fits suck up all the attention.

Dolly is lovelier than ever, so round and rosy, but has become a really mean girl. If I don't yield to her demands that I hold stock-still, she has a way of punishing me.

I took her to see Dr. C this morning, who winced yet again when she saw the latest ballooning.

"Nasty, nasty, nasty," was all she could say. "The infection is spreading. The antibiotics haven't done anything yet."

She numbed me up, sliced open the incision and rummaged around in there to clean out a bunch of what she called "gunk."

I love it when she uses medical terms I understand.

I told her how I think Dolly looks very pretty.

She was shocked. "That's not pretty at all to a surgeon. It's very, very, very not pretty."

I wanted to shush her so we wouldn't hurt Dolly's feelings.

Dr. C dressed Dolly with acres of gauze and tape, and told me to return tomorrow morning. If my girl isn't any better, she wants to admit us to the hospital for IV antibiotics.

I really don't think I should be letting Dolly run my life like this.