Smirnoff’s advice on selecting a doctor

This is just a teaser while I write out the godawful experience that was telling Smirnoff that I’m taking some time off from ballet as per my doctor’s recommendation.
Yeah, I told him “doctor” not “midwife”.
He is old-school.
Not sure exactly how old school he is in the baby-doctor department, but didn’t want to give him any more ways to tell me I am wrong and making a mistake.
Anyway, so this story comes up during barre, about a friend of his:

My friend went to see the doctor. And the doctor told him, “You must stop smoking.” But my friend did not wish to stop smoking! So he went to another doctor. And this doctor also said, “You mustn’t smoke.” So my friend went to another doctor and another, and they all told him the same until one doctor said, “why yes, you may smoke as much as you like.” and my friend said, “aha! This is my doctor!”

Not sure exactly what he was getting at here, I mean, if he was telling me to find another doctor then he was also equating ballet to an expensive habit that most doctors agree will eventually kill you.
Which seems a little extreme.
So, maybe he was just telling that story to make us laugh between the battement glissades and the frappes.

A Canadian (Beginner) Ballerina in Paris, by @zeelogan

Bonjour Gentle Reader! Un guest post lé magnifique por vu! Oohlala!

A Canadian (Beginner) Ballerina in Paris

By @zeelogan

Two months prior to my French spring vacation I realized I booked my ticket on the opening night of my local company’s presentation of Swan Lake. To quell my disappointment I decided that I should attend the ballet while in Paris. Once my ticket was purchased I started thinking more and more about ballet in Paris and decided that I should try and find a drop-in class to attend. The only thing that could possibly be more exciting than finally starting ballet lessons at 30 is to attend a class in Paris!

Here is my adventure.

***

The day of my chosen class arrives. I’m excited, but nervous all day.

What if can’t understand what the teacher says? What if I’m wearing the wrong clothes? What if … what if … what if …

Thoughts of the time I accidentally ended up in the Advanced Class (i.e. danced with ex-professionals) instead of the beginner/level 1 class I intended to take permeate my soul.

Well, nothing can be as disastrous or as embarrassing as that experience. I might as well go. And I committed to writing a blog post about my experience. I can’t disappoint Adult Beginner.

I prepare myself in my hostel room, slip my shoes in my purse and walk to the Metro. I’m on the Metro, one stop away from where I need to be, and it powers down. There is some announcement in crackly subway speaker system quality. I don’t understand it. Some people get off, some people stay. I look at my watch.

I’m probably close enough I could get off and run there. But run to ballet? I’ll be exhausted before class even starts!

Power resumes. I find the studio: Centre International de Danse Jazz. I enter the doors and then have to walk down a long dark corridor. It feels kind of movie like. I find the reception.

Ugh, crap. How do you ask to take a drop-in ballet class in French?

After a bit of a struggle, I have my drop-in ticket and head upstairs. There is nothing fancy about this school. It is bare bones, a little rundown, with dark hallways, tattered carpet and ballerina sitting on the floor. This somehow makes me feel like a real ballerina.

Studio 2 is large. The dance floor is in the middle of the room; with the flooring on top of the cement/industrial carpet. This means there are ballerinas scattered along the edges of the room, stretching and warming up for the next class.

Uh oh! Some of these girls are really flexible. This can’t be the beginners’ class.

I summon all my French courage and ask the girl beside me if this was indeed the debutant class. She nods.

The previous class clears out, the portable and decidedly homemade barre is moved into the center of the room. I take a place along the barre that is secured to the wall, to avoid being in the center of attention. No one goes to the left of me, there was a tonne of room for additional beginner ballerinas, hopefully those who knew French, to surround me. Eventually a few join me. I know I shouldn’t be getting my cueing visually, but I know my French alone won’t get me through this class.

Droite. Gauche. Left, right? Or right, left? Ugh, I should have at least reviewed that much French. Fail.

I survey the class. It looks pretty much like my class at home: a diversity of ages, some stereotypical ballerina bodies, some ladies with their natural body and giant smiles on their face. Some are wearing the traditional black leo and pink tights, some are wearing colored leos and colored tights, some in leggings and t-shirts. I feel comfortable in my black leggings and black leo. I look in the mirror:

Ugh, all the croissants and macrons and baguettes are showing up already?!? Oh well, I’ll worry about that when I get back to Canada.

Madame starts explaining exercise number one, but very fast. I’m following enough to get what I’m supposed to do, but definitely not understanding all the detailed instructions.

Cue music. No piano today, but I can live with the sound system. It’s pretty nice.

And plié, and rise. Tendu …

20 seconds into the exercise and Madame is already making a beeline for me.

Sigh … it’s going to be a long 1.5 hours I think.

“Français. Français. Français. Français. Français.”

“Oh, you do not speak French?”

“Un petit peu.”

“Ok then.” And she starts to explain to me how my posture is completely wrong and pokes and pushes and realigns various body parts.

They mark the exercises very fast, and they don’t mark all directions. I realize that perhaps I’ve been spoiled and babied a little too much in my class back home, and that it’s time to get my brain working a little better. For now, I watch those around me a little more than I should. It just so happens I have a great view of the male ballet dancers, who are complete with ballet tights and ballet legs, I mean, who are very skilled beginner dancers and are easy to sneak a peak at for guidance when I can’t follow all the French.

Madame returns to me. Apparently I’m still not getting my posture right, she rips of her shirt so she can show me her exact alignment. She pulls and twists my arms into the perfect second position; muscles are activated that I didn’t know were to be used for second. She pokes them,

“Always use these muscles.”

At one point she explains to the rest of the class to ignore all her English whispers, she needs to help this new student. I smile and love all the attention. Surely this is the best 15 Euros I’ll spend the entire trip.

I kinda miss my air-conditioned studio. Is everyone else as hot as me?

We move into the center. I panic, having flashbacks to that advanced class I took. Center work is when your skill is put to the test (and on display). Things start off slowly and I breathe a giant sigh of relief. Everyone may be a bit better than me, but no professionals in this room.

Pirouette time. I execute. I get a nod of approval,

“Hm. That was pretty good.”

Pretty good, as in, pretty good? Or pretty good because you were expecting me to fall on my face? Doesn’t matter, it was pretty good, I know it was pretty good, it felt pretty good, and it was a pirouette in Paris, it had no choice but to be good, and Cathy Laymet, a well-recognized teacher in Paris just said it was pretty good. Ok, it was good.

Somewhere along the way my knee decides it has had enough. Relevé on the right foot becomes painful.

Dang you knee. I want to finish this class. I don’t care. I will even though it’s stupid. Suck it up. Maybe I shouldn’t have climbed the stairs on the Eiffel Tower this morning. Stop it, knee!

I push on, not caring that I still had 2 more weeks to be walking around the French countryside (after note: the knee turned out to be totally fine). Class extends well beyond its scheduled 1.5 hours. At the end Madame calls me and the other new girl over. She gives me her email address, list of her classes and invites, no, implores, me to come to her Barre au sol class, so she can work on my alignment and “fix my back”. I sadly explain that I am just a tourist passing through, and that I probably won’t be able to join her again before I leave. She takes me over to the barre and shows me some exercises I can to do work on my back:

“Your back is horrible. So stiff. You need to fix it.”

Do you know how much money I’ve spent on chiro, massage, yoga and pilates over the years to get it at least this flexible?

I thank her very much for the class and happily skip down the street back to the Metro station.

I danced in Paris.

***

Side Note: While I was in Paris, I, of course, went to the Musee d’Orsay to visit my Degas paintings. Yes, my paintings. I have worshipped all his ballerina paintings since I discovered my mom’s art history books when I was really young. Who hasn’t? Much to my surprise, there was a special Degas exhibit in addition to the permanent collection.

Heaven.

As I was transfixed by his bronze dancer sculptures I realized that they have voluptuous derrières in comparison to the rest of their bodies.

They must enjoy their croissants, cheese and baguettes too.

Also not a tutu

This is not a tutu

Horse Pills and Pride

Went to see the midwives back in March for nutrition counseling.
Had been keeping a food diary for two weeks.
Which sux.
You can’t, like, even snack while prepping dinner without thinking, “ugh, have to remember to write that carrot down. And that olive. And that piece of cheese.”
Totally a good tool but No Fun.
They also asked me to bring in my prenatal vitamins, and if there was anything else I had questions on I should make a note or bring in the container.
So I brought in the danged food diary and the vitamins and a wrapper from one of the dark chocolate bars I’d been having pretty much every working day of the past few weeks.
And the midwives were like, “Oh, uh-uh. No. Just no on those chocolate bars.”
And I was like, “really? But I read somewhere (like Wishful Thinking Magazine) that dark chocolate is really good ’cause, like, antioxidants and stuff..?”
And they were like, “Girl, you might as well stick those chocolate bars on your ass.”
And like ten minutes later when I got done laughing, they explained that dark chocolate is good, but that chocolate bars also pack a ton of calories and sugar which will just put extra weight on me and the baby and I that should get my antioxidants from a more nutritious source.
And then they were like, “Really the best thing you could do would be to stop eating refined sugar all together, but we know you won’t do that so we’re not even gonna suggest it.” and I was like, “I’ll show you!!!” and immediately stopped eating refined sugar and then later was like, “Dang! They totally got me with their reverse psychology!”
But anyway, word on the food diary was that I should have more protein, and that more protein helps reduce sugar cravings, and then they made some recommendations for better pre-natal vitamins. They ones I was taking were ok but not great.
The Great ones are sold at the Expensive And Annoying Natural Food Store.
So after work a couple nights later, Mr. Adult Beginner and I turn corner into the vitamins aisle at Expensive And Annoying Natural Food Store, and there at the end is Kir. From my ballet class.
I’d forgotten she worked there.
This was before I was telling people about the whole baby thing.
I turned to Mr. Adult Beginner and was like, “We have to leave! She can’t know yet! Turn around we have to leave right now!”
And he was like, “Y u so crazy?! Get your vitamins!”
So, quickly asked the nearest store girl, found the vitamins, hid them behind my back, and we went to say hello to Kir, who was like, “hey! What are you guys doing!” and we were like, “Nothing! Haha! Just getting some (totally normal, not baby-related) groceries! HaHa!” and then quickly changed the subject to ballet class, and how Smirnoff still hasn’t used his shiny new iPod,
And Kir was like, “He’s just so proud. You know? His pride gets in the way, he’s too proud to do things he thinks he’ll be bad at.”
And I was like, “but you got him to use CDs, right? And he’s totally got the hang of that now. Mostly.”
And she was like, “yeah. Ok maybe. He’ll come around. Just out of curiousity maybe, to hear what’s on the thing.”
And I was like, “yeah!”
So then we talked about other things and I hugged her goodbye without exposing Secret Vitamins and we got all the way home before I realized that these pre-natal vitamins are actually Giant Horse Pills and the serving size is Six Per Day.
Six!
Per day!
Like seriously, why am I even bothering to eat real food?
In April I got to hear the baby’s heart-beat for the first time, and, Gentle Reader, it sounds exactly like a galloping horse.
So I guess I’ll keep taking these horse pills.

Like Gaynor Mindens on Speed

Ok so this popped up on the twitter the other day:

And I was like omg WANT! WANT!
I mean just Yum, look at them, they have that certain quality of BAD ASS that pale pink satin pointes lack.
And the Nike brand just throws in another level, like they’re probably all springy and cushy like a running shoe.
Great name too. Arc Angel. Want!
Then read down a little further and was like, wait- whut?
This is not a real ad! This is a portfolio! Adult Beginner has been totally fooled!
So once I got over my huge disappointment at not being able to immediately fly into the car and zoom over to my local Nike store and Demand to be brought several pairs to try on Immediately, I started thinking about the design and the guy who designed it and if he is a dancer and if his focus in this project was the shoe design itself, or the graphic aspects of the ad,
Because it looks like this is the kind of thing we called a Paper Project when I was in school, where you do full color designs, detail drawings as needed, swatch all fabrics, basically it’s fully designed on paper but never intended to be produced in real life.
When I was in school these projects would end with a big class critique, during which our teachers would rip the designs to little shreddy shreds and our classmates would try and make up for the public crushination by pointing out the things they liked.
Consideration of budget never entered into these paper projects or thir critique, which is one of the ways in which art school does Not prepare you for the professional world.
But anyway, so I was wondering all these things and then was like, Dude, this is the Internet, why wonder, why don’t I just ask the guy?
So I did.
And was delighted to receive an email from Guercy Eugene that same night, answering my questions about his dance back ground and his ideas about the open heel, and he has such an interesting story that I thought you might like to read it too:
(also he apologized for his English, which is not the first of several languages he speaks)

“I was actually a ballet dancer back in middle school for about 3 years. I attended a magnet school (South miami middle school) which supported kids who had talents in dancing, art, theater, and music. We learned a variety of dancing from Ballet to contemporary dancing and even tap dancing. It was quite an experience for me. i was the only guy in my graduating class in ballet, but i knew that this was where i wanted to be. My parents came from a very poor country (Haiti) so an opportunity like dancing at a magnet school gave me a chance to clear my mind. I then got into art. Fortunately when graduating from middle i was accepted to a school called Design and architecture senior high school where my main concentration was Product design, which brought me to where i am today designing products, mostly footwear. I kept in contact with most of my friends that continued ballet dancing that attended the new world school of the art and they gave me some insight on what i could do to improve the training for ballet dancers. So ii started sketching and keeping in mind that minimalism is key, and that adding more materials to that product will make it worse, so i ended up deleting the heel which provides more ventilation, dancers wont have to buy a new pair every year because all you would have to do is adjust the strap. I also added a d3o element that would protect the dancers foot on impact. This material is a soft gel like material, but when hit it harden and turns into a shell that can take a large amount of pressure.”

I was pretty excited and shot back some more questions, but didn’t hear back which is fine, he is a student after all and probably too busy doing real work to answer questions from crazy shoe-crazed Internet-crazies.
This d30 stuff is apparently also used in high-impact body armor. Interesting idea.
The heel I wonder about: considering how much time dancers en pointe spend not actually up on pointe, seems like the edge would be painful and I wonder if the shoe would feel secure, not to mention that the stretchy band at the back of th heel might want to slide up into the Achilles tendon without any shoe-back keeping it down and away.
These are all things I would have checked while I Totally Danced Around the Nike store.
Oh well.
Keeping an eye out.
You hear me, Nike?
And a big thank you to Guercy Eugene, for making this cool design, and for answering my questions. Thanks man!

Putting ballet in the corner

Had an appointment with the midwives back in March,
This was the appointment where they ask a million questions about family history and health, like:
Do you smoke? ew, never
Do you drink?before I got pregnant, yeah, but not since
Do you wear your seat belt every time? what, are we weeding out the stupid? Of course! Duh!
And,
Do you exercise regularly?
I was like, “Yes! Ballet twice a week and I go running about once a week, would go more but I get home after dark on weekdays, so, like, that’s right out, but I figure as I get bigger running might get kinda uncomfortable anyway, might switch over to walking…and the ballet class is not pointe or anything but it Is strenuous, I Always sweat and I’m usually a little sore the next day.”
And Midwife was like, “yeah, running will become uncomfortable, walking is great exercise during pregnancy, walking and yoga are the ideal combo for pregnancy.”
And then she was like, “So, the ballet, have you been dancing for a long time? Since you were a kid?”
And I was like, “oh heckbutt no, I just started like two years ago and got kind of totally obsessed. I love it but I’m not an Experienced Dancer or anything.”
And then she Dropped The Bomb: “Ok. The thing is, ballet is really not great exercise for pregnancy.”
And I was like, ” O_o “
Because, dude, Gentle Reader, I’ve been hearing all these happy stories about women doing ballet right up to labor and people taking class with the pregnant ladies left and right and everything online seems to be all Whatever You Did Before You Were Pregnant, You Can Keep Doing During, with the minor exception of the big ballet jumps and leaps, and, like, probably if your thang before pregnancy was mud-wrestling alligators you should maybe stop or at least downgrade to smaller lizards,
So I totally figured I’d be That Person.
-I mean the ballet right up to labor person, not the mud-wrestling one-
And I was even totally excited and looking forward to Showing Up the Other Pregnant Girl in class because she doesn’t come very often anymore and I was gonna be a Better Pregnant Ballet Student than her.
(This is also why I’m bad at yoga: Too Competitive)
Anyway,
So I was like, “OMGWhy?!? Is is the jumping? Is it risk of falling?”
And she was like, “Well, no, it’s that ballet training is counter-productive to the changes you need to allow in your body during pregnancy. Ballet is all about a strong core- which is why it’s such fabulous exercise. Ballet requires you to pull up, keep your abs zipped and strong, even just standing properly in ballet… (she puts down her clip-board, stood up, took first position, pulled up her abs, dropped her shoulders, kinda like transformed into a ballerina right in front of me) …is all about keeping your core strong and engaged and in. But while you are carrying a baby, you need to allow your abdominals to relax, become flexible, allow your uterus to move upward and forward, to not be restricted.”
And I was like, “oh.”
And she was like, “in our experience as midwives, women who are dancers have abdominal muscles that are So Strong they resist the expansion that needs to happen.”
And I was like, “OH.”
Never occured to me that ab muscles could ever be too strong. For anything. Ever.
And she was like, “Tight abs can cause a lot of problems. Like, if the baby settles into a breech position before labor, it can be very difficult to turn the baby into a head-down position, and the State of California does not legally allow breech position delivery in the home. We have the knowledge, and used to perform them, but the law no longer allows for it, and that means a hospital birth and most likely a cesearean.”
And I was thinking, yeah, I can definitely take a break from class, but ugh, Smirnoff is so not going to understand.
He will be disappointed in me.
And what about the blog, I mean, ugh, the blog will be Disappoint.
And Midwife was saying, “Now, if you feel like you’re an experienced enough dancer that you can modify you ballet practice, and if your teacher is sensitive to this kind of thing and can guide you-”
And I was like, “No. No and no!” and then laughed and told her the most guidance I’ve ever seen Smirnoff give a pregnant student was to call out, “lean back my dear! Lean back!” which seems like it would just engage the abs more.
So she was like, “if ballet is something you can step away from during this time, you’re really going to have a better experience. And then go back after the baby! Get that core tightened up again! Ballet is really fabulous exercise. What I recommend while you are pregnant is that you walk for an hour every day, or hike, or do yoga.”
And I was like, “dang, an hour every day, that actually more exercise than I’m getting now. Less intense, but more consistent.”
And she was like, “yes, we find that our mothers are happier when their bottoms don’t get too big.”
And I was like, “hee hee, bottoms.”
And then I asked about belly dance and she said go for it, that’s also great exercise for pregnancy.
So,
Yeah.
And I’ll be damned if I wasn’t reading Allegra Kent’s Once A Dancer… later that week and she actually said, right there in print, with no prompting from my midwives, that NYCB called her a month after she gave birth to her first baby and asked when she’d be ready to start dancing again, and she basically said, Jeez, gimme a minute here! And then said she hadn’t even started practicing yet and was still recovering because, “My muscles were so strong that they had resisted the expansion.”
Snap!