It’s funny, when I was dancing every day it never occurred to me how truly terrifying a ballet classroom is. Until today. Granted, it was early and I was tired and only half-awake, and Starbucks made my tea too hot (as always) and was out of bagels (stupid, stupid, stupid)… But none of that would’ve bothered me, oh, two years ago. Actually, I wouldn’t have been drinking tea, it would’ve been coffee. And I wouldn’t have been eating breakfast (vomiting in class at 9 am is never a good option). But I made it. Or most of me made it, at any rate, which should have been a positive reinforcement after all this time.

But, the classroom… Windows now, certainly not the old studio that I grew up dancing in. An entire wall of floor to ceiling 1.5 story windows. And another of floor to ceiling mirrors. Very bright, at 9:45 in the morning. 9:45! 9:45? What on earth did I do for that half hour before class? I know I used to get in half and hour early and do things like stretch and warm up my muscles, core included. But this morning it was absolutely frightening. All these skinny girls with long legs and beautiful feet in their matching leg warmers and muck-lucks (slipper-boots for wearing over ballet slippers). Hair perfect, makeup perfect, jewelery perfect… Did I really do that? Stretching and flexing and all that… really, just showing up one another- Hey! you! you’re in my territory now! Just like an audition because no one knows each other. And me, in my track pants and t-shirt, messy hair, barefoot. Completely conscious of everything going around, and in particular of how I look in a mirror. Oh good grief, how I look in a mirror! We certainly are our own worst critics…

I wanted to run out. Hide. Take the easier class at noon- I’d be more awake, and I haven’t had a class in 1.5 years, so I should probably wait. That’s what I told myself. But there I was, and I’m not the type to cave under scrutiny. Certainly not in dance. After all these years, all the dance I’ve been through, all the auditions I’ve succeeded at- no, now is the time to relax and smile at everyone around you. I really should be comfortable here, because who is there to judge? Certainly no math professor will ever tell me I’m not skinny enough. And no physicist will tell me I don’t have a good enough arch. This is for me now, not anyone else. The best part, of course, is that everyone around you can feel you change your mental state. They can tell that you’re not there to fight them, to take their glory. That you’re not afraid of yourself. And suddenly all of the women at barre around me turned to say hello.

And so, class. Draining, enthralling, beautiful and difficult. And only at the end of class did I remember those giant mirrors tower over me, daring me to love myself and appreciate what I can do. Daring me to look at that girl’s extension, that girl’s feet, that girl’s turns and that girl’s jumps. Taunting me- you see what they can do that you can’t? You see what a mess you’ve become? Terrifying. Because when you look at the dancers themselves, you see the beauty of their movement, the fluidity, the grace, the motivation to do better. The mirrors contort that. The mirrors teach you to fear and loath yourself.

Absolutely terrifying.

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This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 26th, 2008 at 4:43 am and is filed under Voices. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.