All she wants to do is - all she wants to do is dance!

I am a ballerina.
Yes ma'am. It's true.
Nevermind that I only took a few classes. At the gym. And not a legit dance studio. What does that matter?

The facts are the facts. I have officially moved from a ballet enthusiast to my current status: ballerina.

Don't hate.

And y'all. I love it. LOVE. It.

My gym just started offering a class called Ballet Barre. It's taught by a real ballerina. Well, he's a boy, so what do you call that? A ballet dancer? Ballet boy? I'll just gonna call him Ballet Dude. So, Ballet Dude teaches a group class, and from the very first time I took it, it just sparked something inside me. Besides the pain in my calves. It's the same thing that happens to me when I watch ballerina's dance in small productions like, you know, The Nutcracker. I cry.

I didn't cry in class though. That would've just been awkward.

The point is, I see them dance, and I want to be one of them.

And now I am. :)

I plié', and port de bras and demi port de bras. I even learned how to spot.

That part's a lie. I just learned how to get dizzy faster. But I'm getting better every week.

But see? I know all the terms and everything. It's meant to be. We're like milk and cookies, rice and gravy - me and ballet. Because what God had joined, let no man separate.

Now. I don't have what you might call a svelt, ballerina figure. I'm thick in all the wrong places, because as I may have mentioned, 3 kids in 4 years. And I love me some carbs. Yeah. But I'm not a disaster. My form is not atrocious. I'm definitely entry level, a beginner. But I'm really romanced by ballet. I would love to become great at it. It's so beautiful and refined.

I make light of it, but truly, I'm truly surprised at how it has gripped me. I really love it. I love how it makes me feel. (Like a swan) I've always wanted to do it, but never would've signed up for recreational classes at a studio if not for this class at the gym. Now, for the first time in my life I have found something that I would happily forfeit my gym membership for. Dance classes. And that's sayin' alot. Because in the past Stretch and I have had some pretty tense moments about what was need and what was luxury as it pertained to the gym. It's obviously a need. Anybody can see that. I felt very much backed into a corner (panicked and terror-stricken) when asked to give it up.

But not anymore. A new day has dawned. Because now, and forever, I want to dance. I can't just jump ship and dancedancedance all the time like I'd like to, because being impulse-driven is apparently not the "adult" thing to do anymore. Seems it went out with hypercolor t-shirts. But maybe in a few months, after the summer. Maybe.

I hope.

So if you see me out in public practicing my plié in first position, just understand, it's an addiction. And be sure to stand back a little. I'm still a little wobbly.

**I've delayed posting this for a while because I'm trying to locate some photographic evidence that showcases my natural, inborn agility and poise. And by "trying to locate" of course I mean thinking about looking. I haven't actually done any, you know, actual looking. However, when I do find it you will see for yourself that I am indeed a delicate, nimble flower.

I know you'll be anxiously awaiting its arrival. Please be patient, as I am the least organized person I know personally, and this could take a while. By the time you've forgotten all about it is when I'll likely come across it, completely by accident I'm sure.

Anyway. That is all.