Brother, can you spare a mime?

Growing up, my brother and I looked like twins. We liked to pretend that one day we’d get married and be the next Shields and Yarnell minus the burden of mime. We’d have twin bowl cuts, lithe bodies, and an eponymous TV show.
But once we reached our teens, he rebelled. Grew his hair long and curly. I kept mine short and straight (in keeping with our plan). We never got our show. To this day I resent him and express my resentment wordlessly, while wearing a black and white striped shirt and presenting him with a wilted red rose.