My Secret Family

The Bolshoi

Sophie

48 kg and falling

"A ballerina must have flawless physique and graceful technique to be successful, " our teacher recited while we stretched against the bar. "Each muscle performs at the peak of its capability, any fat will slow down and unbalance you.

I raised my arm above my head in 4th position, twisting my feet in opposite directions.

"Flabby!" The teacher chided as I struggled to make the heel of my left foot touch the toes of my right foot.

Her black leotard fitted her figure with no wrinkles, her make-up accentuated the rise of her pouty lips, the carve of her cheekbones.

The seven year old in front of me had already perfected this position, taunting me by staring straight up at me as young kids do. Even my reflection in the mirror mocked me.

"Places." The girls all tiddled over to their spot, little pink penguins and one over-sized penguin wearing shorts over her leotard. Catherina (call me Cat) had wanted to tutor me privately as there were no other people my age in this grade, but I had insisted on joining the class, just like I had begged and pleaded with my parents to let me do ballet when I was a kid and then quit in the first week because ballet was not all fairy jumps and Prince Charmings in tights. Now I had begged them again, in earnest, to back me up, to help me finish what I had started. Both teams had finally relented if only to shut me up. I felt like a kid because I still had to ask my parents' permission to do ballet. They still had so much control over me and perhaps it was best and perhaps not, but it was what it was.

"Passé to grand plié, " Cat instructed, sliding her black lacy top back over her thin arms every time she raised her hands. Under the cuff of her sleeves I caught a hint of scar tissue on her wrist. Cat had history.

The other students effortlessly transitioned from the high pose to the low pose. I felt unbalanced, working hard just to keep up. The others were so lithe and thin and capable, all they lacked was training and experience while I had a lot of bad habits to unlearn. I was the ugly duckling in a sea of beautiful young swans, everything was back to front here, out of place.

"Heels flat!" The teacher shouted at me when I bent my knees.

One of the little girls near the front turned to Cat, "Miss, I don't know if I've got it."

"You have beautiful form, Annie. Keep your chin up."

"It doesn't feel like I have."

"You're fine. First position everyone."

"But miss."

"Annie?" Cat put her hands on her hips. "What have we talked about. You dance beautifully. Keep doing exactly what you're doing, just stop being so nervous and you will feel better."

Little Annie put her hands on her hips in first position, clearly not convinced.

"Tone here, " Cat touched my stomach, "and here, " finishing up with my arms. I didn't resent her words, it felt like genuine advice and not at all like Ana's harsh criticism.

"Follow me, count to ten. Can you all count to ten?" The girls answered enthusiastically. "I didn't hear you."

Cat looked at me.

"Yes, Miss Catherine, " We all said.

"Fat. Fat. Fat. Sophie, all I see is fat rolling. Work on those legs. " I had been betrayed. I heard one of the others giggle.

The class was finally over. I ran away to the change room and cried into my towel, quickly rushing to the shower to hide my red eyes from the other girls.

Drying my hair I stepped out of the shower, thankfully Colma Community center did not have a single communal shower but individual stalls. Written in lipstick on the mirror were the words - LIFT THE RAG.

The large words shone in bright red in the pale change room. I went through a check-list of the girls, trying to remember if one of them wore lipstick but I couldn't think of any. Lift the rag. There was no rag, no cloth anywhere. Did they mean sanitary towel? There was no working dispenser in this change room, I always brought extra just in case. The words must have made sense to someone and if they were directed at me they were lost. I had stopped having my period, but only I knew about that. I wasn't pregnant, something I knew for certain because my period had just stopped. No flow, no cramps, nothing, but was that it? I didn't know. I put my clothes in my bag and avoided the next class of ballerinas gaggling into the change room.

"More wine?" My father tipped the bottle, letting the last splash fall into my cup. Tonight had been an awkward dinner with my parents at La Bistro, a cheap restaurant with either bad French or bad capitalization. I ordered another glass of wine which made my parents stop their conversation for a few seconds, as if a glass of wine would be a gateway into another drug binge. As I was reaching for my wine I thought about all the fear it was helping me beat, for a little while. I spoke easier with wine, but I wouldn't sleep easy that night.

The Alameda college corridor echoed back and forth, the light too bright. Now the library was too quiet to study. I always kept a little packet of ginger snaps in my bag, as I reached in to take one Ana tapped me on the shoulder, leaned in close so that only I could hear, "Binging early today?"

"Hi, Ana. It's just a cookie, want one?"

"No treats, " she said, "if you start to reward yourself with food you will develop bad habits. Bad habits, " she reached down and snapped my bracelet against my skin, "make you fat and ugly."

"Being fat doesn't make you ugly, Ana.""Don't argue with me, I know the truth. Look around you, Sophia, do you see any hot guys with these fat girls? No, all fat girls do is live in denial and cry about how they have a glandular condition or some other weak excuse. You will not live like that, you're my girl, Sophia, I want you to be perfect."

"Shhh!" One of the girls Ana had been talking about gave me a fiery look.

At that moment I wanted to be perfect too. I snapped my bracelet hard against my wrist and threw away the box of cookies under the table. There was something wrong with the sound of it hitting the floor.

"Good girl, " Ana said as she picked up her cellphone and ignored me for the rest of the walk. 

Walking? I had just been sitting in the library. The transition had disappeared somewhere.