I blame it all on dad. He was a glutton. He ate himself to death.

I miss him awfully. He was a good dad. That doesn't help that he left a rather sinister heritage to his family. We had adapted to his eating habits. Our friends called us pudgy. I will not go into what other people called us. I had it bad in school. I was teased mercilessly but that was nothing compared to what my brother Robert had to suffer. He was not only fat (let’s not beat around the bush) but he also had gynecomastia. No surprise what his nick-name became when we started high school: Boobie. He handled it all very well. He basically shut himself into his room whenever he could and tried to avoid people as much as possible whenever he couldn’t. I’m afraid I was too preoccupied with my own problems to really understand how he suffered.

Oh I forgot. In all the stories here it’s customary to introduce oneself. Hi, I’m Betty. I’m a girl. You know, the original and non-improved XX-version, or rather the XXXL version at the beginning of this story.

Mom and I had started doing something about our excess kilos. We ate more healthy food. Bobby “supplemented” that with food containing the essential food groups salt, sugar and fat. Mom and I had started to work out. We had started when I still was in the last year in middle school and while we didn’t exactly achieve the bikini target that summer, we did make rapid progress. We both had got memberships at a women’s gym. It was expensive but effective. Very good advice and support. Friendly atmosphere. We made so much progress that Mom didn’t need her bra extenders come October. She handed them down. Not to me. I had been sensible enough to get new bras as I grew (in every dimension). My brother hadn’t. He had been so embarrassed the one time Mom had managed to get him to a bra fitting that he refused to set his foot there again. It was most unfortunate that two girls from our class had been there.

Yeah, Bobby and I are in the same class. We are not twins. Bobby is my little brother. I was born in January and he on December 25. Poor guy.

Anyway, as Bobby had grown, his bras had become too narrow. He preferred that discomfort to repeating his very bad experience in the lingerie shop. The bra extenders improved that situation somewhat. They were also a shock to him. They brought home both his problems in a way he had managed to repress. Well, Harry, the worst bully, and his minions had a field day in the locker room.

It was also at that point that Mom got promoted. This had as a consequence that she worked longer hours. Since she had more or less met her weight target she stopped going to the gym. The very expensive gym. No refunds. However, memberships could be transferred. Mom knew the owner of the gym and she can be very persuasive. First she persuaded Bobby to take over her membership (the bra extender experience had made him more receptive) and then she managed to have Bobby make a visit to the gym to see if the other members would accept that he was there. The thing about Bobby is that he triggers the mother instinct in almost any female he comes across. Even 10-year-olds. Bobby became a member.

The first time we had an aerobics session was “interesting”. For once Bobby wasn’t teased. The others in the group had or had had similar weight problems. Another “interesting” feature was that I had forgotten that the school’s cheerleaders used this gym. By the second half of our class a bunch of them gathered at the window to the studio. Fortunately Bobby was too concentrated on the aerobics to notice.

Bobby didn’t do well. On the other hand he got an A for effort. The teacher commended him afterwards. She was less happy about his gym shorts and very baggy t-shirt. For one thing trying to hide the body was not mentally healthy. Secondly he stood out from the rest of us that wore tights and leotards. Enter cheerleaders offering to help him get some new clothes. Did I mention that Bobby triggers mother instinct? Bobby turned red like an emergency flare but couldn't stop them.

From there things rolled on. Or perhaps I should said; that was what started the avalanche. Bobby came back from the dance store gushing about the cheerleaders. He barely noticed that his new exercise clothes consisted of a cerise thong tank leotard (XXXL) and white tights. Amazingly that was what got him past his shame about his body. In that outfit he was sooo beyond that.

Things changed in school as well. Bobby was included in the cheerleader social sphere. All students could only watch in amazement, or in Harry’s case frustration. Teasing Boobie had become too dangerous. Bobby was the cheerleaders’ pet project.

The first time Bobby got invited to a night out with the cheerleaders he knocked on my door. Somewhat abashed he asked me if he could borrow a dress. I was thrilled. Thrilled that my brother wanted to borrow one of my dresses? What kind of pervert was I? Perhaps I wasn’t thrilled about just that, exactly, but I was very happy that my little, and supersized, brother would spend an evening out and not locked into his room. That started a pattern. Bobby joined the cheerleaders for all social events, including sleep-overs. Fortunately I was ahead of Bobby on the downward slope. The weight slope I mean. So I always had clothes that fit my little brother. Actually more and more little as he shed his kilos working out and eating healthily, aided and abetted by his new friends. Why do some people claim that cheerleaders are a bad influence?

By Christmas Bobbie was made an honorary cheerleader and an honorary girl. Bobbie’s new year resolution was to “be the best girl possible for the year”. Not transitioning (yet) but living like a girl. Mom and I were taken aback but when we thought back to the miserable blimp that had started high school there was no doubt in our minds that we’d have to support her.

That probably was the hardest. To remember to use “she” and “her”. School had no less problems in view of Bobbie’s continued formal male status. However, solutions were found.

Bobbie also started to get her own clothes. Well, considering the time she had spent with the cheerleaders shopping it was only fair that she started buying as well. I was relegated to lender of last resort. Not even that after a while. Bobbie’s closet flowed over with the most exquisite clothes. That girl had great taste!

I saw less and less of Bobbie. As an honorary cheerleader she started to practice with them. Not that she was up to their standard but she WAS the cheerleader’ pet project. Soon it became clear that she’d try out for cheerleading come the new school year.

Amazingly I benefited as well. As the big sister of the new popular girl my status increased as well. I should have been happy, shouldn’t I? I’m afraid I was jealous. That only motivated me to exercise more. I wanted to be a cheerleader too!

Two lean and beautiful sisters began their sophomore year. One was flat chested and had to pad her bra. Boobie was no more. Both tried out for cheerleading. Only one got into the cheerleading squad. Too bad it wasn’t me. To make things worse I was the best of rejected ones. If it hadn't been for my brother. eh sister, I would have made it! I never wanted to go into school politics but I still felt a pang when Bobbie got elected a student council vice president. To make things even worse Bobbie got a boyfriend. Pete was the cutest boy in our class. Damn it, not only was he cute but he was perfect in every way! I knew because he spent so much time at our place I got to know him pretty well. Now it was I that wanted to lock myself into my room. Then I remembered the pathetic boy that used to live in our house and rejected the idea.

New Year. The end of Bobbie’s new year resolution. The end of Bobbie. Bobby decided that he preferred to be a boy. He now had gained so much self-confidence that he could be himself. He even had learnt what “himself” was. He gave away all his girl clothes. He left the cheerleading squad but only after making sure they had a good replacement and he remained in their sphere, as a boy. He carefully dumped Pete after subtly making sure that Pete’s interest be transferred to another girl. He started dating one of the cheerleaders. He gave the bra extenders to Harry while explaining to him that the bra he (that is Harry) was wearing was too small and the sweater didn’t really hide that fact that Harry was wearing a bra. Take it from someone that had tried for years to hide his bras.

Things didn’t turn out that bad for everyone I muse when I get out of my cheerleading uniform and stand indecisive in front of my overflowing closet. Even Harriet is happier now but what to wear for may date with Pete?

I have even got over my jealousy. I recognize that my brother was a better man, eh girl, than I and I'm proud of him. I try to follow his example.

Still, I hadn’t expected that I would be the second-hand girl in this family,