Everyone is beautiful at the ballet

I’ve never been what you might call a “gym rat,” or a “health nut,” or even “moderately fit.” Oh, there have been brief stints of gym attendance, but they are generally combined with much longer periods of paying for a gym membership in lieu of actually using it. There was, however, a brief period in my life where you might have called me a “dancer.” To be clear, this brief shining moment occurred a good 15 years ago, back when I depended on my parents to ferry me to dance classes and recitals, all to prepare me for my future career as the first Supreme Court Justice/ballerina.

My career ambitions might not have turned out quite the way I hoped, but this fall, when I happen to have a free Tuesday evening, I can be found donning a leotard and tights, throwing my hair back, and taking my place at the barre in ballet class.

There’s something incredibly comforting about ballet class, despite the fact that as an adult I sweat glow in ways I don’t remember from dance classes at age 10 and that I can’t lift my leg higher than 45 degrees even when the step has the word grand in front of it. I think it’s partly to do with the universality of ballet. You could go to a ballet class anywhere, just drop in, and it would be pretty much the same as every other ballet class you’ve taken before. Sure, teaching styles differ, of course, but the barre portion of the class will always consist of plies, tendus, degajés, and lots of other delicious French terms. Every class will do adagio in the middle of the floor and leaps across the floor. Each class will end with everyone applauding and curtseying to the teacher. And it’s amazing how much I remember. Not just the terminology, but the position of the arms, the slight tilt of the head, turning to the barre rather than away from it. All these details were ingrained in me from the age of 6, and apparently my (much larger and less graceful) body still remembers.

The class draws a mix of women who have been in the class for years, people coming back to ballet after some time away (like me), and (much to my chagrin) the occasional young ballet student looking for extra classes during the week. I’m not at the top of the class by any means, but I’m not at the bottom, either. It’s the perfect place to be.

I don’t think there’s any hope of the Supreme Court Justice thing panning out, though. Bummer.

8 days and counting!