It’s not you AB, it’s the non-disclosure.

Was walking with my sister the other day, pushing the boy in the jogging stroller,
—And feeling pleased that at least this time we hadn’t seen Other Jogging Mom, the one who I only ever see when she’s jogging her stroller but I’m just walking mine. Never mind that I might have just finished a super long run, Other Jogging Mom and I only cross paths when she’s jogging and I’m lazy. In fact, the other day it was like 100 degrees out and I was in my car and I saw her out jogging that jog stroller and I totally wanted to roll down my window and yell, “I’m driving to the gym!! To work out!! I’m not lazy!! Your Face!!!”
Actually Other Jogging Mom is really nice. We chat at crosswalks. I like her. But man, gets me so competitive!
Anyway not the point. Point is, the other day, strolling the jog stroller back from coffee, we walked past some kind of film shoot and I was like, “Ooh! I wonder what they’re filming?” and my sister was like, “I love how you always just bust up in there and ask,” and I was like ,”yeah and I love how they always tell me. You know they like never tell [Mr. Adult Beginner]? They totally say something lame like ‘it’s a Tv Show’ and he’s like ‘No duh, Power-Mad Clipboard-Wielding Nineteen-Year-Old, it’s obviously a tv show, but fine, don’t tell me, jeez.’ ”
I think they just tell me because I’m all adorable pushing a stroller. Plus maybe it’s because I never ask the nineteen year old with the clipboard.
Didn’t find out what they were filming this time though because the shoot was on the other side of the street.
But reminded me of the other day after another not-awesome pointe class, I was sitting in the lobby all sad times, taking off my sad pointes, trying to decide if I need better shoes or a better attitude or what, and there was some kind of big audition going on in one of the other rooms, maybe something hip hop, and two of the auditioners were sitting on the other couch all slumped over not talking and staring at their phones, like they were maybe sad times too, and after a little while I asked, “What’s the audition for?”
And they both kinda looked over at me side-eye and said, “An artist.”
Oh.
Man.
I kinda just said, “oh.” and then got my shoes on and walked out all Extra Sad Times thinking, “Oh Come On! An Artist? Really?!!! That hurts my feelings! I’m cool! I think? Ok Fine! Don’t tell me JEEZ. It’s obviously either a commercial or a tour anyway! I know stuff! Jeez!”
Didn’t occur to me until later that they’d probably both signed a million non-disclosure agreements, they probably really couldn’t tell me, like, legally. Like I was probably kind of putting them on the spot by even asking.
All I could think in that moment was that they looked over, saw that I was not cool, not a real dancer, plus too old and fat and what was I doing with those pointe shoes and what was my hair’s problem and nobody wears new balance anyway like ‘nice mom-shoes, lady,’ and just decided to shut me down.
Why am I so drama? I think pointe class makes me a little bit sad and insane.
Therefor:
Gentle Reader, I’ve quit pointe.
Gonna write Adult Beginner LOLZ in fancy script across the toes of my pointes and try again sometime in the future with new shoes and a different teacher.