Tuesday, February 19, 2008


I studied ballet for about 12 years when I was a child and teen (I bet you could have never guessed that, friggin' goodie-two-shoes that I am). I was never very good, but I loved it. Ballet is hard on self-esteem for a girl; you hate your body and you hate any sign of fat. But it’s great for posture, grace and pure diligence of practice. Later I became a modern dancer and then a ballroom dancer. Then I retired and was finished with dance, finally.
However, a few weeks ago I found my schedule accommodated an adult ballet class. So I began doing plies, tendues and fondues again. I remember all the French words, the body language, and the traditional order of exercises perfectly, as those who practiced a sport must keep it deep in their muscles. But my body cramps up terribly, and I’m deathly afraid of injuring myself, with good reason. I am very old to be doing this. The teacher is sweet and tolerant of me.
It’s weird how life can circle back on you, no?

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