Why I am not a Ballerina

The nine year old is getting ready for her Tap/Jazz recital. My part, the chaufferring, is largely done but one last trial remains to me--making up her face. I don't use makeup so this is always very stressful for me, and even reminding myself that the dance school's exacting style book leans to "early trollop" and the other mother's seem to merely lay the stuff on with a pallette knife doesn't help. Still, I thought I could offer some valuable assistance by advising her to get dressed before doing her hair and face.

"No mom" she said, breaking it to me gently "you step into your leotard, they don't go over your head."

This.Explains.Why.They.Kicked.Me.Out.Of.Miss.Olga's. School.of Ballet. some forty years ago. I wonder if there are pictures?

aimai