Spur of the Moment by Theresa Alan Page A

that most of them were pretty damn boring to listen to. It would be easy for her to be more memorable and entertaining than the other people.
    She was the third-to-last person to go up in front of the group and talk about herself. As soon as she was facing the audience, she put her right foot to her left knee, raised her arms overhead like a ballet dancer, and said, “The main thing you need to know about me is that when I’m nervous, I like to dance.” She moved slowly into an arabesque. She said everything in a bored monotone. “Also, I like to do gymnastics. I like to tumble. I like to tumble quite a bit. I’ve been studying gymnastics since I was a little girl, and I find it so relaxing. Of course, I’ve run into problems with it sometimes.” She did deep pliés, with her left arm outstretched to the side, curved gracefully, and her right arm moving in circles from below her waist to above her head as she dipped into a plié and raised back up. These were all warm-up moves she’d done before practices; she used lots of these moves in her floor routines. “Like one time, when I was taking the SAT, the administration chick got all in a huff when I did some summersaults down the aisle.” People laughed appreciatively. Ana thought, I love this! “Or this summer when I lost my virginity . . . well, not so much lost as threw away. Gave it away. Pawned it off on somebody. Anyway, I’d like to tell you it was romantic and erotic and wonderful, except . . . it wasn’t. See, I’d wanted to be in love when I had sex for the first time, but I kept waiting and waiting for the guy of my dreams to come along, and he never showed up. Anyway, I did not want to go to college as the first virgin in the history of the universe. Plus, virgins are constantly fed into volcanoes as a sacrifice to the gods—the health risks of virginity are pretty dire. So I was dating this guy over the summer, and even though I didn’t really like him, he had the equipment I needed to be devirginized, so I went with it. It was on a Saturday afternoon, and I didn’t think I’d be nervous, but as he was struggling with the condom, I started having a panic attack. I really wanted to do some back handsprings or cartwheels to relax, but before I could he was on top of me, and . . . I don’t want to say it was bad, but how do I put this? I was as dry as a desert, and our equipment was rubbing together like two pieces of glass. There was this ee-ee-ee-ee sound, and it wasn’t the headboards. And when he pulled out, there was this sound of air being expelled from a vacuum-packed package.” Ana made the “Thwock!” sound to uproarious laughter. “Well, so, I guess that’s all you need to know about me. Oh, one last thing. My name is Ana Jade Jacobs and I grew up in Broomfield, Colorado, and I have my very own pair of Wonder Woman Underoos that still fit me. Thanks for hearing me out. Catch ya later.” Ana waved goodbye and as she walked back to her spot on the floor, the applause surged around her.
    Ana felt awesome. This comedy thing? She was hooked.

14
    The Summer of Elastic Waistbands, Part One
    I t had been a summer of elastic waistbands for Ana, and if she didn’t do something quick, it was going to be a winter of elastic waistbands as well. Already she was having fantasies of tearing the drapes from the windows so she could wear them toga-like to avoid having to wear her pants that cleaved her body in half. If she kept going like this, there wouldn’t be enough room for both her and the rest of the actors on the small stage. Action must be taken!
    It was a Friday night and she had an hour before she was supposed to leave for the theater. For dinner she had steamed veggies and a small serving of pasta with marinara sauce. It was not even a little bit satisfying.
    She’d been overweight for several years now, but lately things had reached a critical