I miss pointe class so hard.
Had a really rough ballet class the other day.
Like, emotionally rough. Like Smirnoff called me over before class and was all, “Let me see this ankle brace! No, I do not like this ankle brace, my Dear! This brace does nothing. It is a mental brace! You feel it, and it reminds you to go easy, but physically it does nothing!”
“And these shoes, they also are not good, I would prefer you wear something with more support. Like a jazz shoe.”
Now, Gentle Reader, you know I am not about to go out and buy jazz shoes for ballet class. Jazz shoes are ugly. And I am cheap.
“And you need to buy three inch wide waterproof athletic tape and tape your ankle. Yes, keep it on in the shower! Yes, sleep in it! Add more tape from time to time! You must immobilize! Or it will be six months from now and still not healed!”
And I was like, fuck, he’s basically telling me to build myself a cast. Immobilize?! Thought I was supposed to be working it gently in class to recover mobility! Why the fuck am I even in class? What if it does take six months to heal? What if it never heals? What if I never get to come back to ballerina class? Why didn’t he tell me this stuff last week?!
So, we start barre and I’m trying to keep immobilization in mind and like, can barely do a damned thing. I mean, like the song sez, the foot-bone’s connected to the shin-bone, and if in-between you’ve got an ankle you are now afraid to move, well, you can’t do anything deeper than a demi-plié and you don’t even go mid-way up in a relevé, all you do is the tiniest raise of the heel, and it just Sucks.
I mean hey, big revelation of the day: every frikin thing in ballet is pliés and relevés! Fondues, pas de bourré, pirouettes, glissades…I modify them all into horrendous looking slack-footed hybrids. Bastardizations of their former, balletical selves!
Every now and then I rally, and say, ‘hey, Self, it’s cool, you can concentrate on your beautiful arms!’ And then I look in the mirror and say, ‘No! Arms are crap! Everything is Crap!’
And then it’s time to sink into a total pit of regret. Previously, I’d been able to resist the total pit. When anyone would kinda shake their head and tsk tsk and tell me I really shouldnt have taken that unfamiliar class with an unfamiliar teacher I’d just be like ‘Whatever! I do what I want!’ Yeah, valid point, but I like trying out new ballet classes! That’s valid too! There’s a wide world of ballet out there! I like to see what a new teacher brings to the table of the feast that is ballet! So there!
But anyway there I was at the barre thinking, ‘I can’t do anything now, I should never have taken that class, how could I be so fucking stupid?!’
Lé Assistant has told me that if I want to take new classes I’d be better off just leaving after barre, but that seems rude! I mean, what do you think, Gentle Reader? Seems like the barre is tailored to the center and leaving after barre is like skipping out on a play at intermission. Which I know is rude! I’ve done it a few times! Bad plays should not have intermissions! It just gives people a way out! So there!
Ok and here’s the thing that really scares me about not being able to take pointe for an unknown period of time. Most of the other girls in pointe class are flakes.
Meaning, I went regularly, Best Girl goes regularly, all those other bitches are Fair-Weather Ballerinas.
I’m worried that the class will fall apart.
Smirnoff needs at minimum three students or the studio space is too expensive to rent.
I really miss pointe class.
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