Through clever disguises one brother appeared to have very short legs and an unnaturally long body. I remember a clown, a sword swallower, and perhaps our blind-in-one-eye pony. Someone more creative than I tossed out different ideas, and suddenly declared, “and Lani can be the fat lady!”

Under a blouse and full length skirt, I wore a big inner tube around my midsection. Ropes over my shoulders kept the tube in place but allowed me to move freely. The tube bounced against my legs as I walked and the effect was hilarious.

Even though nobody said I was fat, I felt embarrassed. Was it because I was the logical choice among five sisters for the role? Or because it didn’t seem quite right to dress up as a fat lady? Probably both.

At first I worried that our mom, whom we insisted was not fat but “pleasingly plump”, would be offended by us having a fat lady at our circus, but she laughed and I relaxed. The audience loved it. I remember relishing their laughter and affirmations.

Still, all these years later the memory brings mixed emotions; a smile at the creativity and fun of making our own circus and a smidgen of shame that I was the fat lady.