Simply Me

I stood on my tip toes with my arms held out strong to the side. I sucked my stomach in and tried to lengthen my body to appear as tall as a 5 foot 1 inch woman possibly could. With my right foot pointed towards the opposite corner of the room I swiftly but carefully put all my weight onto it while turning toward the back of the room and hoping my left foot would find the shiny hardwood floor. My left foot carried all my weight  once it was secure on the ground while I spun around to face the  front of the room in the position I started in.

I managed to fit in five or six more turns across the length of the rectangular room while the most pleasant, delicate ballet music sounded from what most people nowadays would consider an old-fashioned double-deck tape player. The four other women in my ballet class also attempted their turns across the room one at a time.

While practicing my turns I tried to find an item or object to look at or in dancer lingo to “spot” so I wouldn’t get dizzy. I had no luck though finding something, anything to spot on the bare white walls. Not even a dirt mark. Needless to say the room was spinning as I walked back to the starting corner to take another go at perfecting an elegant, ballet like turn.

The room spinning sensation reminded me of that not so great feeling after a night of drinking a bit too  much. Only this time I wasn’t in bed with one leg dangling off the side providing some sense of being grounded. Instead I geared up for another set of turns across the length of the room. After class the teacher even commented to me what a nice job I did on my turns.  She is tough, but you learn a lot and you learn it quick. You really don’t have a choice.

When I am in ballet class all that exists is the ballet bar, the mirrors and my feet.