Tiny Dancer
I recently had a life changing moment where I realized I need to become a ballerina. Or, really what I realized is that I already am a ballerina, I just don’t do ballet. Most people went through this phase when they were six. But when I was six I wanted to be a baby doll and since I’ve pretty much already done that (big eyelashes, motionless, fake, etc.) so I guess I’m finally ready to go through my ballerina phase.
Now I know that you are getting ready to suggest that I take an adult ballet class so I’m just going to stop you right there. No. Everyone in adult learning classes is a freak and smells like hot-dog water. They are the exact opposite of ballerinas. And I can almost guarantee you that the aura of the room that the class is taught in would not be conducive to the art of ballet, so lets just move on.
They say dress for the job you want, not the job you have. So I decided that going shopping for things that said “edgy ballerina” would be the most important part of my career change. It was super convenient because I was already on my way to the mall when I realized my calling was dance. I bought a Chanel chiffon colored nail polish (PS- the woman at the make up counter tried to sell me a glittery lip-gloss. It was so vulgar), light pink Missoni dress, and huge red cape for a statement piece.
I was so wiped out from shopping that I decided to lie in my room of mirrors and channel great dancers instead of practicing. I woke up ten hours later to my cleaning lady taking my pulse. I overdose on Xanax once and suddenly she’s a nurse. Anyway, it wasn’t until she brought my new clothes into my room the next day I even remembered my fling with ballet. My mind was too focused on how to buy some Adderall from my high school neighbor so I’ll eat less than my sister in law at dinner. I’ll always look back on my dance career fondly, but sometime you have to put your dreams aside for more important things- like tricking people into thinking you have an eating disorder to get attention.
