Originally Posted by Tasi:
“When I was a little girl my mother (ever the optimist) sent me for ballet lessons. In my tu tu I looked like a white orange with a frill around the middle. And the flat feet didn't do much to help either! Anyway the teacher, sensible woman, gave mum her money back and told her to stop flogging a dead horse.
I've never tried since!
”
“When I was a little girl my mother (ever the optimist) sent me for ballet lessons. In my tu tu I looked like a white orange with a frill around the middle. And the flat feet didn't do much to help either! Anyway the teacher, sensible woman, gave mum her money back and told her to stop flogging a dead horse.
I've never tried since!
”
Ooh, my mum sent me to ballet lessons as well, when I was about 7. (She was concerned about my pigeon-toes). I hated them. I never got the hang of the toe-pointing thing and I seem to remember the teacher had tendancies to shout at me. I pretended to be ill every time I had to go for a lesson, so after about half a term (during which I learned nothing) my mum decided to stop sending me to them as she wasn't going to waste her money on lessons I wasn't going to attend. And that was the end of any dancing pretensions I might once have had.




”
*waves*
)