All of my sisters are thin and pretty, and then there’s me. In any photo of us it’s very clear that one of these things is not like the others. Namely, the big, fat cow who is the size of the other three put together. They’re all younger, with more money, actual romantic lives, promising futures. Again, I am not like them. Part of me hates them, just a little bit, for getting such a better hand of cards than I did. The rest of me just hates me.