WiserAngel Trips Again....

Yep, that would be me on the right. A little background... I took classical ballet lessons for 10 years, from 7 to 17. But I never took them seriously, not really. While all the other little fairy princesses were prissing around in their pink leotards and tutus, I was using my tutu as a slingshot to pelt the princesses with my precious pink ballet shoes. They were practicing their grande plies and releves and I was Kung Fu Fighting.

Regardless, I advanced and by my teen years was dancing en pointe. The summer between 16 and 17, I went from a barely B-cup to a D-cup. Three months. BOOM. There is a reason ballerinas are tiny, skinny and boobless. You just CAN'T pirouette when your body's center of gravity is up high. To give you an idea of what I was dealing with, take a top and tape a couple of large ball bearings on the edge and try to spin that fucker. So my final performance, two weeks after turning 17, found me pirouetting into the orchestra pit, taking out two celloists. My dance career was over.

Why am I telling you all this? Madame Hess would always look at me sadly and shake her head, muttering, "So much potential, and yet you can trip over the pattern in a rug." Yeah, carrying out the trash a while ago and fell off the deck. Think I sprained my wrist and Charlie hasn't stopped laughing.

Maybe I should have paid more attention in ballet class.