Highs? No, just lows.

Today was just one of those days where you really don't want to get out of bed but it also happens to be the busiest day of your life. So I woke up feeling dreadful and kept having thoughts about my weight all morning. I know I really shouldn't think about myself like that but when a teenager is under constant speculation, it's pretty hard not to.
I ended up going to school in sweats and a dance t-shirt with my hair up. I looked like a train  wreck on legs. It must have been a terrible sight. All through fourth period, I fought to keep my eyes open, but I guess that's what four AP classes do to you. BT was out of school today, so I couldn't lean on her for once. We have one of those friendships where I can cry as long as I want to her but the minute I'm done she slap me and tell me to get my act together. I guess that's what I needed today and never got.
Then dance came and she decided to choose today for everyone to perform their pieces in front of the class. After struggling through a dance that is usually fairly simple for me, I just felt like crying. I wanted to go home. My ankle was killing me, my head was spinning, my hamstrings felt like they were about to snap, and my legs would not move. But of course, I had musical rehearsal after school and then had to rush over to my company rehearsal, not getting home until eight. Now I have about four hours of regular homework tacked on to studying for two AP tests tomorrow and doing my physical therapy for my ankle.
So all in all, I just want to curly up in a ball and cry. At dance I got criticized for my body as usual. The costume for the ballet we are doing wasn't looking quite right on me, so L told me to not eat for a week to "get that bottom under." It took everything I had not to melt down on the spot.
Luckily my mom had nice warm cookies baked by the time I got home, so now I can begin my relationship with my APUSH book while satisfying my foodie urges.

xx.

Oh the Happenings.

So have you ever been in a rehearsal and gotten absolutely nothing done except sit in a corner waiting for your director to give you something to do? No? Well, I have. BT and I usually get labeled as the Aly Raismans of ballet--as being the reliable but in no means flashy ones--and tend to be cast aside until she uses up her favorites. Seeing as we are practically melded at the brain we tend to have some pretty weird conversations that end with gut bursting laughter.
Most people don't get them but we do and we have come up with some crazy schemes. Here are the best.

3) Bisquick.
So I had a dream that I wanted to make pancakes but the only way I knew how was to use Bisquick. Then a pterodactyl smuggled all of it to Russia. I know, I have weird as eff dreams, sue me. So we somehow came up with the idea to find a Hungarian Horntail that talks and fly it to Russia, break into the Kremlin, and steal the pancake mix back.

2) Anita and Maria
This classic movie/musical, West Side Story, is always a sleepover pick for us (along with Center Stage and The Walking Dead) and somehow we got the idea at 3:00 AM to move to New York, spray tan ourselves, dye my hair, change our names to Maria and Anita, speak in Puerto Rican accents, and dance on top of roofs.

1) Dead Bodies
After watching the Walking dead, BT got scared that I would die before her and come back to devour her. So we came up with the plan to put dynamite in my casket and blow it up as I am being lowered into the ground so there is no body to be undead. I honestly have no clue how we got onto this topic in the middle of Party Scene rehearsal for The Nutcracker.

Well, I hope I'm not completely losing it; though, I probably already have.

Until next time.

xx

The Stare down

So there is nothing more frightening than the terror of my company's Nutcracker Callbacks. By that description most people would think she mutilated us in some sort of way. But, no. It is far, far worse.

We stand there. And she stares at us. Yes, we stand there and she stares at us and occasionally calls a name or two. It is horrific. It's almost as though you can hear her thoughts about you despite the fact that she is just glaring at everyone with ice cold daggers coming out of her eyes.

So that's where BT and I are heading this morning. Our doom and the beginning of the season of hell. Nutcracker.

xx

Homecoming

You know, sometimes it does seem like I am super out of the loop. And these next few weeks I am definitely going to be lost as hell.

Homecoming. Yes, that cliched rite of passage (though, admittedly, no where near the level of cheestasticness as prom) that has been invented to make my life a living hell. All week I am surrounded by my friends fantasizing over who and how they are going to be asked while I sit there, pretending like I give a crap. Granted, I know they probably don't want to hear about my latest injury or foot mutilation, but please give it a rest.

However, the plot thickens. I feel morally obligated to go to this particular homecoming, because the theme is Peter Pan. And of course this all relates back to ballet. I have wanted to be the title role of this ballet since I was five years old. I can recite the Disney movie by heart an Jeremy Sumpter was my first crush. I want to dance Peter Pan so much that I am willing to go to a sweaty, high school gym and watch people molest each other all night for a chance to even feel slightly more connected to the story. I know, I make absolutely no sense.

On another note, I might not be cast in Appalachian Spring. Another ballet that I have had a lifelong goal of doing is being performed by my company and my director is thinking of just calling all of her alumni back to do it instead of using her apprentices.

Needless to say, today was a nonsensical and terrible day.

xx

Just a quick note.

These things have been my savior for the past month! They are the most delicious thing I have ever eaten and they actually work and give you tons of energy.

I'll pop one in before rehearsals and I'm ready to go within five minutes.

But whatever, I guess it's personal preference.

On a darker note. Blisters are the worst thing ever. I got a blister today at class that is the most gruesome thing I have ever been in contact with. One thing not so fun about pointe shoes.

I never understood. Why do we do this to ourselves? I absolutely love dancing on pointe but afterwords, when I look at my maimed feet, I always ask myself that.

Well happy days and I'll be updating on the Nutcracker situation soon enough.

For now. xx

Week of Auditions

The wonders and horrors of auditions are the primary fear of dancers like me. The people that don't see you on a regular basis, automatically judge your body so it's always important that your dancing is top of it's game and you are on on that particular day.

However it's sometimes even harder to audition in front of people you see everyday for a year. And we all know that the Nutcracker is what our year revolves around. All year BT and I have been casting different parts by piecing together who L's favorites are at that moment and who she comments on. See at the audition--even though it's pretty much just another class--three old bitties (we'll just call them the Panel of Hell) who determine your fate. J sits there, smiling at you like she isn't planing your death, C who always pretends to be in awe of your work to cover up the fact that we suck, and the of course we have L who makes it no secret with her blank stare that she takes no more pleasure than watching us fail. These reactions alone make you want to eat your own feet off, but no matter, you have to go on.

This week, I had the misfortune of going to two auditions within one day. By the end I felt so downgraded and beat up that I just wanted to punch a wall. So I did my normal thing. Read Harry Potter.

I truly and honestly suggest this to everyone under stress. Open up Philosopher's Stone, pop in some ear buds playing "Across the Universe" and say goodbye to your stress.

Or don't. Whatever.

Nobody Said it was Easy

So, I'm not going to lie. As much as I love dance, I probably have an equal amount of disdain for the image and up keep it takes. I didn't get into ballet for the tutus and the costumes so I was expecting a rough time. What I wasn't expecting, was my body and the horrors it posed for my journey.

The natural inflexibility, short limbs, muscular legs, lack of arch, a rear end to rival Jennifer Lopez, and my unfortunate lack of height all seem to be curses from whoever has something against my dancing. I was so unhappy with myself because L (dance teacher) would correct me for things that were out of my control. Over the past few years, it seems all I hear is, "Straighten those knees!" or, "I know that butt isn't tucked under!"

I would cry myself to sleep and hate myself for eating a cookie. All I could think about was how T1, and H, and T2, and S, and R were so much better than I and continually improved while I diminished. I would try to limit my food consumption to barely anything a day to no avail.

It took my 3 saviors--M, N, and BT (best T)--to realize that I don't need the legs or the arches or the favoritism or the flexibility or starvation to feel good about myself. I just needed to put the determination somewhere else. Into what I do have. I have the flexible back, the grace, the arabesque, the passion, and the leaps that I should have been concentrating on.

This is me. 5'2", 120 lbs, the girl with terrible feet, the girl who cannot turn to save her life, the girl that L can't stand, and the girl that can leap higher than most everyone she has ever met. Me.

This is my journey of breaking away from the ballerina image, to find my core love of ballet, fitness, and food all while remaining healthy, sane, and happy the best I possibly can.

Join me. It is going to be a hell of a ride.