Thursday, June 12, 2008

Chassé Shante

I go to ballet class!

I feel a bit like a whale out of water amongst a few of the other students, trim little nothings in leg warmers and hot pants. One says she's been dancing "forever," but is in the beginner class because she hasn't taken class for one whole year. I roll my eyes. Forever minus one whole year does not a beginner make. It's hot in the studio, as if it's a ballet tradition to shun air conditioners along with turning away from the barre. One young male braves the class of twenty-five women, galloping like a farmer across the studio as we practice runs. A woman in crocheted pants reveals not only a camel toe but what can only be an entire camel foot.

I sweat my way through endless demi-plies, tendus, and jumps. It feels unnatural to me, but I love it. Tutu optional.