Road to prima ballerinadom blocked by physical deformity and bad character

As many of you know, in an effort to become a more well rounded person and inject some gracefulness into my relatively grace-free life, I am taking ballet classes right now. And I love them. I haven't jumped on the tights-and-tutu train yet, but I do have the requisite pink shoes and I do dance around in them at home when I should be working.

Unfortunately for me, and for all of you who have been anticipating my first appearance at the National Ballet School with baited breath, its not looking like ballet is going to be the train out of law that I was hoping it would be. For two reasons.

1. I have a horribly deformed body.
I did not know this until two months ago (though I should probably have clued in during my first visit to a real, swanky gym - see May archives). I stayed behind after class to ask a question, and in the course of being guided through one of my moves, my teacher discovered that ONE OF MY SHOULDERS NATURALLY SITS WAY HIGHER THAN THE OTHER. This, apparently, will keep my dancing from reaching the levels it otherwise may have reached. In addition to this, my knees are double-jointed (thats a no no), and it is only a matter of time until she notices that one of my eyes is bigger than the other.

2. My moral character is questionable, making me ugly on the inside
- and hey. We all know that ballerinas need painful looking bun-style hairstyles on the outside, and lovely interiors. Yes, you may have known this already, but if you didn't, I am now on the road to self-redemption, so this is part of my journey. I swore in ballet class.
I had to miss class last week because I was getting ready for a trial (that is another story), and apparently in that class, we learned a new complicated set of moves. I somehow ended up in the front row, and we had been practicing moves I had seen before, then all of a sudden our teacher, Miss Portia, calls out in her sweet voice a number of things I have never heard before, and I am lost as everyone starts doing this mystery set. I try to follow along, but get hopelessly lost and mutter "shit" under my breath. Except that Miss Portia was right in front of me. "NO SWEARING IN BALLET CLASS!" she lilt-screamed, causing me to turn a brilliant red (clashing with my beautiful ballet shoes), and, unfortunately, squeezing a remorseful "oh, SHIT" out of me before I clamped my hand over my mouth and mumbled "I'm sorry Miss Portia".

So. There you have it. I will continue to take the classes because I love them and they are hilarious, but its time to start looking for another alternative career.