Ballet Tuesday.

I know it's Wednesday. But I went straight from Ballet yesterday to work.
Before I even start this post, just remember: I haven't been in a Ballet class since I was 10. I've done Hip-Hop and Ballroom since then, but no Ballet. I had my first Ballet class in 7 years yesterday.


I don't know what I was expecting.
I mean, did I really go into class thinking, "As soon as I put these Ballet shoes on I will be able to speak French fluently and suddenly become a better dancer than the Prima Ballerina at the Kirov Ballet." *Sparkle, sparkle, curtsy, thank you, thank you! Muwah!*

All I know is that during barre exercises my right ankle began to complain, then in the middle of glissades my calf started seizing up and I just thought, "No...no! Bad calf! You will NOT have a charley horse now. Please no." Then by the time we started doing grand jetes across the floor I felt like jelly.

It didn't help that my feet were all, "Hey let's just do whatever we want."
I was thinking, "Run, run, run, right, run, run, left, run, run, right, arabesque."
My feet went, "Run, run, run, half-run, which foot? Um, right, run, run, run, crap! left foot? run, run, run, run, half-run, left, ah! no right! Craptastic arabesque followed by a shameful walk to the corner to do it again."

For some reason I pictured this going differently. Something like after one class I suddenly remembered everything I had missed in the past 7 years? I just wanted to be like that 92 year old woman who graduated from college you know? Start something with all odds against you and conquer it. That's proving much harder to do. Especially when your teacher corrects you with the sentence, "At your age you should be able to *insert basic move in French that I've long forgotten here*"

Slap! Sigh. Like I don't already know I should know this "at my age."
This is really making me wish I didn't quit when I was 10. I could've had 7 whole years between then and now to be awesome.

Now, I'll probably become one of those mothers who lives vicariously through their daughters and won't let her quit dancing because I regret my personal decision while neglecting her opinion and letting her live her life the way she wants to, therefore destroying our relationship because "she's not me" and "this is my dream not hers."


My Dream Before Class: Get good enough to join a Company later in life

My Dream After Class: Survive...


I think I'll go stretch some more now. I need some serious work.

Much Love & Sore Feet,

Katherine