NOT Everyone Is Beautiful At the Ballet

You know how you watch ballet and the ballerinas float ever so lightly across the floor, their legs lifting delicately before or behind them, their arms gently extended to the sides or raised above them? You know how lovely and fragile they look, almost as if they could be snapped like a twig?

That's bull. Those gals are solid steel. They are beautiful rhythmic muscle dressed up in sequins and lace. It's the most deceptive optical illusion of all time. There isn't a position their bodies contort into that is natural or easy and yet they look graceful and elegant, long and fluid.

After several weeks of adult beginner ballet classes, several weeks learning basic positions and turns, learning how to stretch (and how NOT to stretch), learning how to turn without vertigo and how to tendu without my tongue sticking out, I've discovered more about myself than about ballet in general.

I've learned that my muscles take longer to stretch out than they used to and that once I've done a forty-five minute class, I'll not be able to walk up my stairs to bed without wobbling halfway up. Plies are fine, demi-plies are even better, but grand plies make me fall down. I have terrific balance until someone else in the class giggles, at which point, all bets are off. My hips can hurt for weeks on end and it's possible to completely abuse thigh muscles you didn't know existed simply by stretching a little too far.

Also, and in the positive column, I've learned I have excellent turnout and a flat back at the barre. These are things you don't expect to find out about yourself in your mid-thirties. I've discovered that I'm okay with my fat jiggling as I chasse across the floor and that if I lock eyes with myself in the mirror, I can releve on both feet all day long. I've learned that I have no wish to go en point. Probably something that should NOT be attempted for the first time at this age anyway. My toes are flexing at me with relief this very moment.

The reason I am sharing all this via my blog is because I'm in too much pain to do anything but type. Only my fingers don't hurt. But you better believe I'm keeping this stretch now that I've got it back and Rich has promised to install a barre for me once we get into the new house. Ballet isn't easy and it isn't graceful for beginners. I wonder if it ever feels graceful to professionals or if it's just the way it looks to the audience? But the struggle to contain and control my body in this way makes me smile through my pain. There is something about the movement of it that soothes my soul, even as it wreaks havoc on my hips.