It’s another Tuesday night and you’re waiting at the door with your hair slicked back and your tights uncomfortably tugging at your waist. You stand with your bag tugging at your shoulder, begging you to let it rest, but you stand at attention waiting for your sister to demand you get out of the house because you’re late to practice. When she does come flying around the corner, your mom is right behind her, holding out a slice of bread, begging her to eat something. Your sister doesn’t look back and storms out to the car. Even whilst in the car, mom would simultaneously steer the car to practice, while also pushing your sister to eat. Mom would say, “You need to eat. It’s dangerous to dance on an empty stomach.” And your sister would argue, “I’ll look fat! Do you want me to look fat next to all my friends?” They would go on the whole car ride.

Despite the bickering voices, the music that dimly plays fills your ears. You hear the familiar band The Smiths and their song “Some Girls Are Bigger than Others” play. If your sister heard it playing, she probably would’ve thrown herself onto the road right then and there as Morrissey sang that he had just discovered that “some girls are bigger than others.” But she was too busy denying the sustenance your mom provided.

You can’t blame her, though. Your studio used to track her weight, and the calories, and the way her costume fit. The costume lady would always sigh when you walked in because she knew she would have to alter the hooks on your costume because you were too big for the ones that already sat on the back. So you could only imagine what your sister felt like. Teachers used to tell us that they could “see our lunch” under the leotards that hugged our torsos unforgivingly. So you’d use your skirt to hide your stomach. But you were only allowed to wear a skirt once a month. So now you understand your sister’s solution.

 However, you never understood why she thought she was fat. She was as thin as a pin. Her own subconscious would end up rubbing off on you anyway. You would think about the lyrics and think about the girls on TV, and the girls in magazines, and the girls in your sister’s class, and the girls in your class, and your best friend. It didn’t take long for you to understand why your sister didn’t eat, but you would never understand why you couldn’t stop. But maybe it was generational since your sister took after your dad and you took after your mom. And as you got older, you looked between your mom, and her peers, and her friends, and you recognized a familiar pattern. “Some girls’ mothers are bigger than other girls’ mothers.” And you cried about that.

Now, instead of the tight tights and leotards, you wear baggy pants to hide your legs, but your feet get caught in them, and a raggedy band shirt that’s got enough holes it could be considered Swiss cheese. Now you watch your sister from afar as she sneaks into the kitchen for an afternoon snack.

She still doesn’t eat much, but at least she’s eating something.