There once was a hairy little girl, named Harriet, who wanted more than anything to be a ballerina. She pranced and twirled all day long, swan-diving off furniture pretending to be in a professional production. Her parents could see her enthusiasm and agreed to buy her pink ballet slippers, a little tutu, and lessons. Hairy little Harriet practically flew into her first lesson but stopped abruptly in the entrance. She found before her a sea of alabaster-skinned, blond 8-year-olds, their translucent peau practically aglow beneath their baby pink tutus and tights. Hairy little Harriet looked down at her hairy little legs and hairy little arms and turned beet red with embarrassment. Because you see, she was half Assyrian and half Anglo-mutt, which in her case created a combination of cream colored skin and dark, thick black hair – all over. Assyrians say that hairy people are nice people, but Harriet was pretty sure that a hairy Assyrian made that up to feel better. The poster children of the Aryan nation turned and glared at her. They pointed at Harriet and gasped, “Why are you so hairy?!”
Harriet looked down and thought, “I don’t fit in here.” But before she could turn around and leave, the ballet instructor started to play music and led the children in leaps around the dance floor. Harriet felt herself emboldened by the music. Before she knew it, she too, was leaping across the floor. She leaped higher and higher. Then all of a sudden a breeze caught her hair and she glided higher and higher with every leap. She could leap so high she even leaped over some of the other girls’ heads.
When the music stopped, all the other little girls turned and glared at hairy little Harriet. They gasped, “How did you learn to dance so well? How do you leap so high? Can you show us?” From that day on, the other little girls never made fun of Harriet again for they could see that the hair was in fact a magical power, making her the hairiest and the prettiest little ballerina around.