From as long as I can remember I have been fueled with this
unexplainable desire to dance. My mom bought me a book called Ballerina Dreams
by Diana White, a famous New York City ballet dancer. She first read it to
me when I was about three years old and than my
parents proceeded to take me to
see a ballet performance of the Nutcracker, little did I know it was just the
start of many dance experiences to come. I was a very loud and an obnoxious
child who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, making it very clear when I was
unhappy about really anything. However, from the instant I sat down I have this
vague memory of being transfixed by the dancers on the stage, knowing deep in
my heart that was what I wanted to be when I grew up. Later in my life my
parents told me I sat through the entire ballet until the age of six where I
proceeded to dance in the isles hoping desperately to be just like the “big
girls” on the stage. It became a tradition, until of course I was finally old
enough to play a part of my own and went from Angle to Flower finally reaching
my childhood dream with point-shoes tied snugly to my feet. Unfortunately
though, as much as I was and am captivated by ballerinas sometimes just loving
the art form isn’t enough to push through the pain. To this day I couldn’t give anyone an exact answer as to why I
quit, but I do know I miss it everyday and shouldn’t have let others tell me I
didn’t have the body to be the best. This continues stay of mind puts harsh
criticism on every young girls body causing a series of physiological set backs
that will haunt me forever.
