At 14, I was accepted at Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival, an elite dance training and performance summer program in the tiny town of Becket, Massachusetts. The following summer I returned and met a young boy named Fred. He was the sixteen-year-old son of a pig farmer who worked in the dance festival cafeteria. I instantly fell truly, madly, deeply for him as we locked eyes while I stood in line waiting to fill my plate with cottage cheese, peaches, and French dressing. I hated the food but I loved seeing Fred.
I was quite skinny in my yellow leotard, which matched my blonde hair and yellow ribbon around my bun.
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