Your Side and Mine

Chapter 1

Do you ever wonder if you'd be a different person if you didn't have a certain insecurity? Almost like an insecurity can change you or alter your personality.

I always wonder if I'd be in my sister's shoes if I'd been born with her boobs. It's not that I want to be. It's more a curiosity of whether my life would be on a different path. The thought that every little decision, no matter how small, brought me to the place I'm currently standing sometimes makes me feel crazy. If I never cared about my boobs—would I be famous? What if I had taken a different way to the store—would I have gotten into a car accident instead? What if I had waited the extra ten seconds to hold the door open for that guy behind me—would I have dated him? Please tell me I'm not the only person who thinks about things like that.

When I developed B cups, my younger sister developed Ds along with confidence. Sometimes, I felt like her boobs gave her all the things I didn't have, or maybe my own chest withheld it. I didn't like the way my shirts fit or the way I looked in the mirror, and I thought my personality reflected it. She was able to do things with ease, and I plain couldn't. She started acting then.

First it was just our middle school plays. Of course, she was always the lead. Liv thrived in the spotlight. Our mom was thrilled when Liv told her she wanted to start auditioning for television and film; having a famous daughter could only be a plus. I wouldn't call our mom a 'momager.' She never pushed us to act or audition. She just had this thing with perfection. Perfection that the world could see. Not perfection for yourself. Not happiness for yourself. Outward appearances mattered to her. A lot. She thought of me and Liv as extensions of herself—in a way we were as her daughters—but almost literally. If I dressed like a slob, then people would think she was a slob. By the way, she was never, ever a slob. I was sometimes a slob.

It didn't even take a year for Liv to book her first role. Then it took me years to realize my boobs were my own insecurity; the only thing I used to see when I looked in the mirror, but no one else even noticed. I think we all have something like that—something we carry around with us all the time, and it's probably not just one thing. I carried a lot around in the back of my mind, and it didn't help that I was constantly surrounded by what seemed like flawlessness.

I slowly flipped through the magazine I had picked up that morning in the grocery store line on the way to Carbon Café. I'd been waiting for the latest issue for months, and it was finally in my hands. I was settled into their unusually empty patio, sipping on my iced latte and playing with the fake grass beneath the table with my foot that I had slipped out of my sandal. I always loved their patio—the purple umbrellas attached to tree stumps, the overflowing greenery, and the string lights above my head. It made me happy sitting there.

I stared down into Liv's eyes, a pair on each page across several spreads. It was photo after photo of her in some ridiculous outfit. I couldn't help but laugh a little to myself. After all those years, I still didn't understand how she made her face look like that. The seriousness of her expression and the intense stare that almost wasn't natural. If I hadn't actually known her, I'd think people like that didn't really exist. I knew I couldn't make that face without looking like a complete idiot. But I guess that's the thing about celebrities—everything about them comes across as effortless.

"She's so gorgeous," the barista said, looking over my shoulder as she cleaned the table beside me.

I was pretty (even with my flat chest), but Liv pulled off sexy. Me—not so much. Obviously, Liv had the help of professional stylists, but she always liked that stuff. I was comfortable with my hair in a ponytail and simple makeup. I liked dressing up as much as the next girl but not every day. I valued being comfortable too much. She always had interviews, photo shoots, and social media to look perfect for. I questioned if all that stuff truly made Liv happy, but if it didn't, she didn't let on.