And finally I have those little kids that run up to me and hug my leg, telling me that I'm really good at what I do. Better late than never. They make all the bullshit worth it.
I've decided that I want Christian to teach me to breakdance next year. I should be able to fall on my head and spin around on the floor. The boys do it, so why can't I? I mean, I was thrown out of ballet for being "unladylike".
By the time I was four or five, the teachers had decided who would be the stars and who was just there to pay for the overheads of running the dance school. Being the token fat, uncoordinated kid in the class, I was of the latter group.
They decided that we would do some sort of snowball dance, so we all got styrofoam snowballs to take home with us. The plan was that we would skip around in a circle with these cape things on, throw the snowball out in front of us, pick it up and then get off the stage as fast as we possibly could. 25 seconds max. We were only there to pay the bills, remember.
I took my styrofoam ball home with me and guarded it with my life. That thing was in mint condition when I brought it back the next week. (You'll also notice that I'll never break the binding or fold pages of any books I have either.) The other girls, however, scratched theirs all to hell with their fingernails, and I was disgusted at how stupid and irresponsible they were.
In rehearsal we put on our costumes and practiced the thing over and over. Skip around in a circle, throw the ball, pick it up, escape. Got that, Erin? No one could quite trust me after the cupcake incident during the teddybear picnic dance.
So that's exactly what we did. Skip around in a circle, throw the ball, pick it up... but that's as far as we got. I threw my pristine styrofoam snowball in front of me, and the moment it touched the floor, another girl snatched it up and I was left standing beside a mangled piece of shit that they called a snowball.
She had obviously made a mistake. I explained that to her. The one she had brought from home was mutilated beyond recognition and the one I had brought was nice and new, and she had picked up the wrong one. I said that everything would be alright if she would just give it back to me. The teacher sided with the other girl.
Seeing as we didn't see eye to eye, I punched the other girl. Proper ladies don't use violence. I never went back to ballet lessons.
I'm still pissed off about that.
I really should go to bed. Not sure why I was up in the first place.
|