ballet and belly
The belly thing first. So we were all watching the Super Bowl on Sunday, and my sister was exhausted after an eight-hour shift at the diner where she works. So she was snuggled up to me with her head on my chest and one hand on my belly. And out of the blue she goes “I like your belly.” And I went 
DD because that’s something I didn’t expect to hear from my teenage sister.
As for ballet: well, I took it for four years when I was little, and one of those obnoxious girls who wouldn’t wear anything but pink or purple. And then I saw an article about the adult beginners’ ballet class at the local studio. So I signed up, somewhat trepidatious because… I don’t look like a ballerina. Except maybe one of those hippos from the Dance of the Hours segment in Fantasia. (They’re awesome, but you get my point.)
But it was awesome. Actually my first feeling was one of total disorientation, because there are some things that are exactly the same – the ivy painted over the mirrors, the curtains on the windows – and some that are completely different. Also I’m not sure how different things look simply because my eye line is about a foot and a half higher than it used to be. But so much of what I used to know came back. Turning out from the hip, keeping the back straight, the same little snippets of music repeated over and over, the French terms that I actually know now what they mean.
And luckily it was a very welcoming environment. The crowd ranged from high school girls to women old enough to be my mother, and some of them were in leotards and some were in workout gear. I was definitely the fattest one there, but I had the prior experience. And I got complimented on my flexibility. The teacher was also very kind; the martinet who ran the school when I went there as a weester retired, and this woman was really nice. She didn’t seem to mind that I physically can’t get my heels together for a first position given the size of my thighs, and I didn’t feel singled out for anything. Well, maybe for the jumping at the end, but that had more to do with the fact that I need more support for my 44Ds than a regular bra if I’m going to be bouncing all over the place.
I came home tired – I really am out of shape, but this was a good way to get moving without killing myself. And today my hips are awfully sore. But I can’t wait to go back next week.
