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.
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.
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.
I really do not know that anything has ever been more exciting than diagramming sentences. —Gertrude Stein