My sisters went to prom tonight. Where did these beautiful, half-grown women come from, and what did they do to the little eight-year-olds I remember?
It's even more poignant because Kathy is wearing my dress, the dress I wore to my senior prom. I bought it in March - after I'd been losing weight for two months. I loved the slinky, Hollywood-starlet way I felt in it. And then when it came time to wear it, I'd been losing weight for almost five months. I was a very well-made-up head on a spiky, bony frame. My mother grimly took pictures and didn't smile when I asked how I looked. "Not good," she said. Six months before I would have been devastated to hear her say that. By then I was numb, and too chronically angry with her (well, with myself) to care.
It's been four years. I thought about trying on the dress when I arrived home today - to see if the fabric still felt like water on my skin; to see how it fit me. I didn't. It's not mine anymore. Kathy wears it in a way that I never did - tall, confident, strong. It's hers now, more than it ever belonged to me.
I'm so proud of those two.