I did a half hour of ballet warm ups in my room yesterday and today I felt the burn in my thigh muscles. The burn I haven’t felt in too long and god, it felt so good.
I remember the feeling quite vividly. Or, more appropriately, the lack of feeling in my toes. Grishko’s. Size 8. Fitting my feet inside the narrowest space possible. And the first time I got up on pointe, rising up on my toes with the hard block under them, holding them in place. Bruises and blisters. I don’t remember bandaids though. They would just slide off while I was dancing. I remember not feeling my feet but still having to get on pointe to do relevés and plies. The first time I got my pirouette down. Then I could do two in a row. And three. Until I finally accomplished fouettes on pointe. I think I cried. After every class we’d all go up one by one and see how many we could do. The most I did was ten and it was probably the proudest moment of my life. Not graduating College but doing ten fouettes on pointe. It was the most beautiful thing my body has ever done. I’d trade in the daintiness of my feet any day to be able to do ten fouettes every day. I know I still could if I practiced…a lot. So maybe I’ll be proud again someday.
Someone’s excited about trying out a ballet class tonight
I do grand jete’s when no one’s around.
i got bored and put on my pointe shoes. and some tchaikovsky. yes, in the bathroom. there’s barely any room in here. i need a big room with shiny wooded floors.