Questions 47 to 51 are based on the following passage.
I am a foot taller than Napoleon and twice the weight of Twiggy; on my only visit to a beautician (美容师), the woman said she found my face a challenge. Yet despite these social disadvantages I feel cheerful, happy, confident and secure.
I work for a daily newspaper and so get to a lot of places I would otherwise never see. This year I went to Ascot to write about the people there. I saw something there that made me realize the stupidity of trying to conform, of trying to be better than anyone else. There was a small, plump woman, all dressed up—huge hat, dress with pink butterflies, long white gloves. She also had a shooting stick. But because she was so plump, when she sat on the stick it went deep into the ground and she couldn’t pull it out. She tugged and tugged, tears of rage in her eyes. When the final tug brought it out, she crashed with it to the ground.
I saw her walk away. Her day had been mined. She had made a fool of herself in public— she had impressed nobody. In her own sad, red eyes she was a failure.
I remember well when I was like that, in the days before I learned that nobody really cared what you do. I remember the pain of my first dance, something that is always meant to be a wonderful occasion for a girl. There was a fashion then for diamante (人造钻石) ear-rings, and I wore them so often practicing for the big night that I got two great sores on my ears and had to put sticking-plaster on them. Perhaps it was this that made nobody want to dance with me. Whatever it was, there I sat for four hours and 43 minutes. When I came home, I told my parents that I had a marvelous time and that my feet were sore from dancing. They were pleased at my success and went to bed happily, but I went to my room and tore the bits of sticking-plaster off my ears and felt forlorn (被遗弃的) and disconsolate.
According to the author, what was the main reason for the failure of her first dance