Today, I took a ballet class. More on that in a minute. First, understand WHY I took a ballet class.
I've always lived on a musician budget, but I haven't lived on a student budget in over ten years. Do. Not. Like. Musician budgets are bad, but if you're a decent businesswoman, you can budget things like restaurants and the occasional massage into your lifestyle. (Don't knock the massage budget. It's cheaper than a co-pay and a masseuse spends WAY more time on you than a doctor.)
Anyway, in an effort to not pull out my teeth before I my guitar gets to my flat, I needed an activity that didn't hurt my brain (writing currently hurts my brain) and was also ... free. Through the magic of Twitter, I learned that today is free-class day the dance studio. Unfortunately, the only class that fit my schedule was "Barefoot Ballet -- Level 2/3."
Upon arrival, the receptionist tried to frighten away my friend and me with shakes of her head and worry of injury. We were not so easily deterred, thinking that I still remembered my positions one through five (there are five, right?) despite the twenty-five years since my last ballet class. The teacher was more optimistic than the receptionist, but she did warn us she would not slow down or repeat combinations just for our sakes.
Truthfully, if it hadn't been for the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I would have told you that I did quite well in class today. As it were, however, I can say I managed the footwork well enough for the most part, but I looked pretty much like Grimace in tights. It was fun though, especially the waltz across the room at the end, when I just decided to flail my arms and bounce around with a grin. It's more fun that way.
And no -- there are no photos. Sorry. Tonight is a free Riverdance class (okay, so they call it Irish Step, but I prefer "Riverdance"), but my legs are still sore from doing all those French words.
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