else. Also, I have these really long legs, which "turn out" naturally (a big advantage).

I've already learned to dance on my toes (which is called en pointe) and I've played lead roles in a few ballets, like Swanilda in Coppelia and Princess Aurora in Sleeping Beauty. Someday I hope to be a professional ballerina, if I can stand the years of hard work and "dee-seepleen," Madame's favorite word (translation: discipline). And that means the rest of my life would be like this:

1. Watching what I eat. (Have you ever seen a fat ballerina?).

2. Taking as many classes a week as possible.

3. Stretching all the time, to keep my muscles limber.

4. Becoming familiar with the classical ballets I might be in someday.

Pretty tough, huh? My dad says being a ballerina is like being in the army — except in boot camp you don't wear a tutu.

My dad, by the way, has a great sense of humor. Which comes in handy whenever he has to wait for me in his car outside my dance school after a long day's work. Which is what he was doing that Tuesday of the tour jet6s.

Madame's voice was ringing out, "On ze beat, on ze beat, on ze beat, on ze beat . . ."as Julie Mansfield leaped across the room. I

quickly did some stretching exercises at the bane, then ran to the changing room.

In seconds I was dressed in white sweatpants, pink leg warmers, and a pink-and-white sweat shirt that said "ABT," which stands for American Ballet Theater. I stuffed my sweaty (glowy?) dance clothes in my canvas bag, slung it over my shoulder, and ran out of school.

Daddy was waiting in the car, a big* smile on his face. "Hi, baby," he said as I climbed in the passenger seat. "How was class?"