Alright, secret time… gather round. When I was in 3rd grade I was going to be a ballerina. I convinced my mother to enroll me in ballet classes. I had the black leotard, pink tights, my hair in a bun on the very top of my head.. Yes, there are pictures. No, I won’t show you. Well, maybe YOU, but not those other guys.. Oh good! it’s an ADD kind of day! *pushes her bangs out of her eyes, straightens her glasses and clears her throat* where was I? Oh yes, ballet class, 8 years old, ever the dreamer. I loved class, and landed the lead dancing roll in our first recital. I was thrilled, this was HUGE… well, to me. Now, before you start telling me that it was huge, you should probably know – there were only three of us.
I was certain that I would progress to being the principle dancer in some amazing ballet company to be named later. Alas, my dreams were dashed when I remembered that I am one of the klutziest people on the face of the earth.. Also, my stepmom pointed out that I have knock knees, and everyone knows you can’t be a ballerina with knock knees.
Thank goodness for SL!