What I want more than anything in the world is auditioning for the Little Swans.

Every girl my age knows the Little Swans is the most prestigious ballet school in the state.

Their TV advertisements have all the girls wearing pink ballet dress and ballerina hair buns.

I want more than anything to have my hair in a ballet bun, wrapped with a net.

Mom says I’m too young to wear my hair in a bun.

I figure that’s unless I become a Little Swan, of course.

Mom also has been telling me how strict their standards are at picking girls.

Perfect height, perfect look, perfect flexibility, she says.

I know she really wants to say, perfect weight, although she doesn’t say it.

I know i’m not perfect weight because no other girls my age still get their cheeks or arms pinched by these mom-ly moms.

Or get called “a perfect little bun”,

Or “a dollop of butter”,

Or any number of really quite cannibalistic terms.

When they see me one way or another they see food.

No one sees a ballerina.

And when people see ballerinas they never see food.

They see only beauty and grace.

My best friend Lindy’s mom entered her into the audition.

My mom says it’s really so much money unless we stand a real chance.

She says Lindy likely won’t get in either, because she is too short.

“Imagine how bad she will feel when the judges tell her she’s too short. Can you imagine that?” Mom shakes her head.