Once upon a time...

My mother took me to the Patty Harper Dance Studio for the very first time and enrolled me in tap and ballet classes two days a week. I was five years old and I HATED IT! Time moved on, and I remained enrolled in the classes, slowly gaining poise, grace and a tiny bit of rythym. I added another two ballet and tap classes per week to my schedule, then added jazz. Then, in my 7th grade year, I joined a real-live ballet company! My new instructor on Saturday mornings was a slave driver! I was not used to her formal nature nor was I in any way prepared for the complete life-altering experience it would be. I stayed with Mrs. B for just the company classes for two years, then I made the leap to her studio for during-the-week instruction. I turned my life to ballet. Well, except for a year and a half of drill team work, but I'd rather forget that time. So, for two hours a day, five days a week, including Saturdays, I practised ballet. I was focused and driven. By the time I was a sophomore in high school, I had my first solo in the Nutcracker ballet. By my senior year, I had added another solo. I think that in those six years I danced almost every role imaginable (except for the magic three: snow queen, sugarplum fairy, and clara). I suck with ballet up until the spring semester of my freshman year in college. Finally, my social life beconed me and I could no longer ignore its siren song… I traded my pointe shoes for jello shots and my pink tights for mini skirts. Thirteen years later, I look back on the decision I made to quit, finally, and I am melancholy. Over the years, I made half-hearted attempts to pick it up again… I tested several dance studios. I purchased tights and leotards. I kept a stash of ballet slippers and pointe shoes in my closet (still do, if I am to be honest). I have even given myself makeshift barres in my kitchen from time to time. I can honestly say that I could probably perform the entire Nutcracker with very few mistakes if I was needed. I can see it all now, "Mrs Pop! Emergency! We need a Candy Cane! Help us!" Yeah, right. If I've learned anything in my 32 years on this little planet, I've learned that you can never truly go back. The memories are often better and more soft-focus than the real thing actually was. In fact, if I think really hard, I can remember the bleeding toes, the infected blisters, the calouses, the eagle-eye that could tell that I'd gained a pound.

The music plays on, as the next generations of ballerinas take my place. And I sit here, a wife, a mother, a woman who sells computers for a living, getting a little misty-eyed. I have no desire to enter the competitive world of ballet again. I have no use for the cattiness. But every now and then, I stand in my kitchen and do a piourette/fouette combination, ending with an arabesque just to show myself that I can still do it! The one thing I do long to recover from that life, though, is the discipline. I lived discipline. Now? Not so much. I think that's what I'll focus on in my life. It's time to continue the story… Ballet may be over for me, but the discipline, love of the art, and the life lessons will never be gone.

Don't over-indulge
Don't be a slob
Don't be a couch potato
Listen to the music, it will always play on with or without your mistakes
Breathe
Head high, shoulders back, stomach in, butt in… Stand up straight!

I think I'll go do a few plies now. :)