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Margo Smith, pages 622-623
 
I am the youngest of six — two older brothers and three older sisters. Somehow, each of the girls were assigned an identity — Barbara (or Babs) was the social one, Carroll (Gussie) was the smart one and Nancy was the pretty one.
 
What was left for me? Although it was unspoken, I felt that I was the “oddball.” Maybe because I wasn’t any of the other things. They were cheerleaders, majorettes, club presidents, and they had boyfriends.
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I assumed that someday, I would become like them — I would fit into a role — step into it like putting on a glove. But it never happened.
 
Part of it was that I was a young lesbian and they weren’t, but probably that’s half of it. The other half is that I really didn’t want a label like they had. I didn’t want to always have to be social or smart or pretty. I think they probably felt the same way.
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In this picture, we’re all wearing tropical themed pajamas that our parents brought us from their annual vacation to Florida. We look happy, enjoying the camaraderie of being one a quartet of sisters.
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