In which the Melancholy Swan recalls life as a tiny ballerina.

Well, not so tiny.  In fact I was already 4'5 and starting to develop the characteristics that lead to my early retirement from dance when I was given my first solo at the ballet recital.  While other girls were princesses or some-such pretty tutu-wearing characters, I was this guy.  Yes, I was Winnie the Pooh dancing to his song "Rumbly in my Tumbly."  My costume consisted of a red leotard with gold tights, a headband with round furry ears attached and (worst of all), a ovoid furry tail that was pinned to my bottom with a single safety pin inside my leotard.  This tail bounced and wobbled with every movement as I stuck out my belly and waddled around the stage.  The parents were enchanted!  Everyone wanted to bounce my tail!  It's charming when the dancer is 8 years old and not built like her tiny little classmates.  Not so much when she's 43 and can still feel that damnable tail.