To drown out the hum of the treadmill, I turn up the local alternative rock radio station on my cassette Walkman. I begin to sport fleshy hips, meaty thighs, a blossoming bosom. As a naturally quiet, introverted person, dance is a revelation. I discover a world beyond words, where movements tell stories in ways that words only ever dream of doing. Why had I been blessed with these talents in this body? A year later, I tried again at a university in my home state of Virginia. After that audition, I begin to doubt my abilities, question my chances of one day becoming a professional dancer. Through the sweat and the muscle aches. As a young dancer in a tiny college town, I had envisioned a vast, sun-filled affair, but I underestimated how strapped for space cities are.
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