Probably the worst ballerina

Probably the worst ballerina

Exercise is often a painful reminder that my body was designed for leisure: cupcakes and coffee or daiquiris in front of the TV.

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Nonetheless, I persevere.

My latest venture into physical perfection is adult ballet. I started ballet class on Saturday mornings with a tall, leggy friend who I am beginning to suspect has a natural aptitude for dance and some internal rhythm. Unlike me, Potato Sam.

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In fact, my timing with ballet is so off that I’ve been coming to class 15 minutes late for the past month, completely oblivious but very perplexed as to why they were always ballet-ing just before class officially started. I was alerted to my erroneous knowledge last Saturday when Leggy Friend and I were browsing Woolies after the class. With an ice tea in hand, I mused, ‘I wonder why the class always ends at 9.15am.’

There was a brief silence.

‘… Because that’s when the class ends.’ says Leggy Friend.

‘But I thought class was an hour?’

Another brief pause.

‘Class is an hour. It starts at 8.15am,’ says Leggy Friend.

Ah. Well then.

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Kind of how I feel at ballet

Ballet definitely leans towards the tall, long, thin body type. The type with elegant feet and long, piano playing toes. My chubby Hobbit trotters certainly don’t fit this stereotype, something I was reminded of with an awkward wince when the shop lady at the ballet store looked at my feet and said abruptly, ‘You’re feet are too wide for the cheap shoes. Most feet just aren’t that size! You’re going to have to get the leather ones, but they’re twice the price.’ I urged her to just let me try the cheapies on anyway, but alas the elegant pink slippers looked like chip packets on my feet. I resigned myself to paying the price, again, for my wide, flat, high feet, and waited the eternal fifteen minutes it took the lady to specially fetch the specially wide ballet shoes from the storage room.

She also fetched special thick elastic bands for my high feet – yes they are not only wide, but also TOO HIGH.

I died a little on the inside.

But now I have feminine pink ballet shoes, and soon I’ll have elegance, grace and a sense of rhythm too.

Or, as I’m sure my mom would say, I should remind myself that they aren’t magic slippers.

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8 thoughts on “Probably the worst ballerina

  1. oh my beloved Sam….. you are so funny…. you make other people stare at me because i laugh out loud here in a game camp all by myself. i love you endlessly and think you are gorgeous

  2. Laugh out loud hilarious!! If it makes you feel any better, my one great ballet moment on stage was as a chocolate mouse. No swan lake for me 🙂

  3. Pingback: Homepage

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