Vanessa Attia

I see the birthday girl and her friends — spritely and animated — doing cartwheels in the living room; they’re wearing cut-off tank tops and spandex, cloth shorts and comfortably fitted shirts, revealing colorful swimsuits that peak out from underneath their clothing.

When I enter, they stop their fun to stare at me in my puffy dress.

I had never learned how to do a cartwheel anyway.