I have a rational fear that monsters are going to eat my toes. My instructor, when I was younger, told me that if I didn’t point them correctly she would chop them off and serve them for dinner. The smile on her face I now know was one of jest, a kind of exaggerated humor only a five year old could have appreciated. But back then, it scared the tutu off of me. Moreover, this was the first time anyone had told me I wasn’t amazing at ballet. Or at life, to be honest. After she revealed to me of the monsters waiting at my feet for me to fumble, they never went away. They were always watching me no matter what I did. Word to the wise, monsters make a fabulous audience.