When I was three years old, I was enrolled in my first ballet class. I loved the tights and tutus and pink, though a future in the ballet I did not have. I learned to plié and pas de bourrée, but, due to the dramatic nature of my untimely departure from the art form at the ripe age of nine, I developed a perception of myself as ungraceful. Not one for wallowing, I soon thereafter discovered my next and lasting passion: writing.

This content is only available as a PDF.
You do not currently have access to this content.