Last night, I took my first ballet class since early June. It's not pretty today, my friends, not pretty at all. My lower back is stiff and sore and the stiffness is spreading, like... well, like rust.
There is a new ballet teacher at the studio. The main thing about changing teachers is that each one has different methods of
torture training. This one is all about posture and keeping your shoulders back, and while I - and my future admirers in the nursing home - appreciate the emphasis on standing tall, I'm feeling it today. It doesn't help that I've been lazy for most of the summer.
My inability to retain the sequence of a combination long enough to perform it continues. I watch the teacher, I mimic him, I think I know exactly what I'm going to do, and then POOF! It's gone, and I'm twirling around and flapping my arms and pretending I'm dancing. Nobody's fooled. At one point I was too tired to care what I was doing, so I guess I just stopped thinking about it and suddenly, I was performing the steps. In the right order and everything. Perhaps I'm overthinking things. I'll have to ponder on that.
So to recap: I spent an hour and twenty minutes last night looking like a complete idiot that had never had ballet slippers on before and today I'm in pain. Tomorrow isn't looking very good, either. But you know what? I feel happier than I have in several weeks.
Coincidence? I don't think so.