Twin-credible bond: MY BIG LITTLE SISTER

Megan Grannan, 27, says she and her twin couldn’t be more different, but that doesn’t matter at all

- Dan Proudman

Swishing my pink princess dress from side to side, I paused. Looking up, I watched as my twin sister Jess placed a shiny cardboard crown on my head. We were six.

We’d spent the afternoon cutting out the card, and sticking on plastic jewels and glitter. “Now for yours,” I grinned excitedly, reaching up as far as I could. But I couldn’t even reach her waist.

“Here, I’ll do it,” Jess offered, grabbing her crown and putting it on her head. Looking up at her, I scrunched my face in confusion. Jess always seemed to tower over me.

My mum Kelly, then 35, had told me that I was a minute older than my twin sister. Yet I was so much smaller. My arms were stumpy and my legs short. I’d struggle to reach things in the kitchen, even with a little stool. It took me forever to climb the stairs to bed.

“It’s because you’re different,” Mum explained later as I curled up in her lap. She told me I’d been born with a condition called dwarfism. It meant I had severely restricted growth.

“So I’ll never be as tall as Jess?” I frowned. “No, love,” Mum said, shaking her head. Suddenly, it all made sense. The way I’d watched Jess enviously as a toddler as she walked and then ran around the garden, finally managing to launch myself up on my feet and waddle across the living room months later.