CAN A JEWISH GIRL HAVE A FAIRY GODMOTHER?

    I'll never be a ballerina. My feet are too flat, and my legs are too short. It's true that I'm petite and have long, black hair—from my mother's side. I have a long neck—from my father's side. I’ll never be a ballerina, but I still want to dance. My friend, Bronwyn, has been dancing since she was three years old. And when I say dancing, I mean dancing. Every kind of dance. Ballet. Tap. Spanish. Irish. Almost every day after school, she's dancing. Me? I just read about dancing. I go to the library, take out every book I can find about ballet, shut myself in my room, and dream.    
    Well, sometimes I do more than dream. I shove the jewellery box on the top of my dresser to one side, my comb and brush to the other side. I prop the book in the middle until it's resting against the mirror. I turn on my CD player and put in my favourite CD—“Masterpieces of the Ballet”. I pretend I’m in a ballet class. I stare at the book, and try all the positions—first position, second position, fifth position. Try to: turn out feet, heels touching, legs straight, back straight, arms out to the side—just like in the photograph. The girl in the photograph looks back at me. Who am I fooling? I stare at myself in the mirror—a girl with big dreams and bigger thighs.