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Mother, Waitress, Middle-Aged Ballerina (Sometimes)

As a 41-year-old non-famous actress living in Hollywood, I often get called to audition for projects where I must get in touch with my inner-child. Take yesterday for example. I was called to audition for a cookie commercial where it was necessary for me to wear a leotard, tutu and "full ballet garb." When I saw the words, "All body types" on the casting email, I knew, "Oh, that's the joke. They WANT us to look silly and not in shape, wearing a leotard. Eating cookies."

Because I am a comedic actress, I get this type of thing a lot. "Character to very character," and I am not lying when I say there is often the sentence, "No models" at the bottom of these audition descriptions.

Um, yeah. No models. OK. Geez. That's gonna be tough for me but I'll try to look as non-model as I can.

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Anyway, I got the idea and went to my good friend Annie's house and asked if her daughter had a tutu I could borrow for my audition. Being that I have a son, his black Voldemort capes and Star Wars masks weren't any help today. My friend found me the perfect tutu that belonged to her 5-year-old and, by some miracle of elastic, IT FIT!

I had a minor moment of pride as I pulled the tutu just below my booty belly, put on some tights and leg warmers, a pink bow in my hair and a leotard type tank top. I was ready.

"Break a leg!" my friend called to me as I drove off. "But no, actually, no be careful! Don't break a leg! Not at your age!" she continued.

I arrived at the audition to a sea of similarly dressed women. In the audition I was thrilled we were told to eat the actual cookies and flit around laughing and dancing because the cookies tasted so good. I ate and flit, flit and ate and, after the camera man yelled, "Cut!" I noticed I was a bit winded.

"Well, that was MY work out for the day." I said.

As I exited the waiting room I noticed the other "ballerinas" laughing and smiling, pouffing out their tutus. Some purple, some wearing butterfly wings, one holding a wand. There was not a frown in the bunch.

But you know what? The best kind of ballerina is the kind that gets to come home and have dinner with you at the end of the day.

"I used to actually BE a ballerina," one woman said. "But after my twins, well, it's not as easy."

I went home to make dinner for my family. Still wearing my ballerina get up. Smiling.

At dinner, still tutu clad, my 8-year-old son asked me, "Mom, did you ever want to be a real ballerina?"

"Well, when I was your age what I wanted to be more than anything was a waitress. I used to carry around a real restaurant order pad and pen and take people's orders."

"Congratulations." He said, "You're our waitress tonight," as I put his dinner plate on the table in front of him.

"Ha!" I said, "I guess dreams do come true. I have wanted to be a lot of things. And it was pretty fun being a ballerina today."

"That's a TINY tutu." He noted.

"Yeah, but it FITS!" I bragged.

"You MADE it fit." He said, laughing.

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"I guess so. But you know what? The best kind of ballerina is the kind that gets to come home and have dinner with you at the end of the day."

Then we turned on some music, he put on his Voldemort cape and we danced and ate cookies.

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