“I had this constant feeling of, ‘You don’t look like everyone else and you probably don’t belong out here doing this.’”
The year is 1994. I’m wearing pink lycra and I am finally, finally, doing the splits. The pain (and, oh yes, there is pain) is eclipsed by a heady dose of elation because this could mean something very exciting: I may be able to leave the humble rank of backup dancer and ascend to the front row during my dance team’s next performance.
When I ask my teacher about that coveted centre-stage spot, she hesitates: “It’s just… All the other girls at the front are small. It might look a bit funny if I mix in a bigger girl.”
She’s sympathetic – she says she was always the biggest at dancing too and knows it can be hard to always be at the back. But the reality is this: I’m 12 years old and it’s the first time I’m told I’m too fat to do something.
I’m sure I’m not
