The First Performance (#lenovobacktoschool)

The First Performance

Anise looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, quite an impressive feat considering the eight other girls crowded around it. The uniform definitely could have been more flattering. For sure it did nothing to hide the small bit of excesses stomach pudge she liked to think she didn't carry. Still, she loved the flowy burgundy fabric of the lyrical dress, the intricate way it wrapped around her, the silky feel on her skin. It was by far the prettiest thing she had worn in years; she just wished she was pretty enough to look good in it.

Next, she studied her face. She hadn't done makeup in years, and nothing as dramatic as the purple smokey eye their coach had demanded. Luckily, one of the more experienced members had finished her makeup early and managed to whip up some magic to make Anise look, at least, presentable. It was slightly sloppy considering how rushed the job had been but from far away, you couldn't really tell. And considering how big the football field was, far away was all she needed.

"You look great," said Shianna, interrupting Anise's critical thoughts, "But have you seen my hairbrush? I can't find it and it's almost time to go."

"Sorry, no," said Anise. "I've been too stressed about myself."

"Don't be. You'll do fine. Great, even."

"I hope so. I'm just so nervous, you know? The partner toss especially."

A senior girl crowded around the mirror turned towards the girls, apparently overhearing their conversations. "It'll be fine," she said. "Don't stress yourself out about it. It's just a football game, it's no big deal. Not like a competition. I mean," she corrected herself, "It is a big deal, it's your first performance! You should just ride the excitement and don't worry about messing up. Just do what you've been doing in rehearsal and you'll be fine." The two girls nodded and Anise took one last look in the mirror, sucking in her stomach slightly, before walking out with her friend.

They were part of their high school's color guard, the visual performers who danced with flags, rifles, and sabres in the marching band. Anise didn't know what had prompted her to join. She had been sort of transfixed by the pretty colors of the flags at the guard's performance in orientation, and gone to auditions on a whim. She hadn't done a group activity like this in a long time, and was surprised when she actually made it in. Never mind that it was pretty much no cut, that small sign of acceptance had done wonders for her self esteem.

When she was younger, Anise had dreamed of being a ballerina. She had attended ballet classes, practiced all her moves, stretched for hours on end. And then that one time she had gone to audition to actually be in a company show, she had been cut based on her appearance. In other words: she was fat. Classical ballet wasn't forgiving, she learned. You had to look the part. And Anise did not.

It wasn't the first time she had heard something like that. Her mom had always encouraged her to exercise more, and though she was too kind to say it outright, Anise had noticed her meal sizes shrinking. She had heard people mention of it, whispers behind her back, that she could put away more than a teenage boy, that others could fit both legs in one of her pant legs. But she had been able to ignore it. Until that day.

To make matters worse, her best friend Meagan did make the production, and was given the highest role for someone their level. At first Anise was happy for her, but then she began to change. Meagan spent much less time with Anise, choosing instead to hang out with her new dance company friends more, she cared far more about her appearance, she bragged about her starting ballet role. And that one fateful day at lunch in sixth grade that Anise heard her blatantly say that she was friends with a hippo.

That was the end of their friendship. The day she quit ballet, for good. And importantly, the day that Anise started getting serious about dieting. But it was hard. Food was just so yummy. And she wasn't athletic, not like the sporty girls who loved to run and could do a million push ups.