The earliest childhood memories that I can vividly recall are my sister crying. It always during those mornings when the results of the castings came out. Tension covered the house like thick blanket. Every year, every month. My sister would sit in front the computer, hands clamped together in a prayer position. These mornings were of paramount importance to her and mostly Ma. Precisely at 10 o 'clock sharp, the list will come out. Ma and Bridy would frantically search for Bridy's name. The list determined if she secured the job or not.
So much effort would be poured by Bridy before the casting. She was dieting even before she could receive her drivers' permit. At the tender age of 13, she had gone hours or even days without actual food but a few vitamin pills and a salad (depressing unseasoned one). At 14 she had learned to walk in gravity defying high heels. At 15 she understood that rejection was real, very real. I have seen my sister cry herself to sleep from hunger. I have seen her vomit on countless occasions just so she can keep her 20-inch waist. I have seen the inhumane struggle between casting seasons. I have seen my sister forced to grow up prematurely just so we can afford our life. She was just a child when this happened.
Why did she have to do this?
She did not have a choice.
Why not me?
Was I not pretty enough?
Anything for family. Right?