The Whole Kit and Caboodle
"Foundation," everyone trying to quietly get their four-of-a-kind on the concrete floor of the dressing room, our faces made up with full eye makeup and red lipstick on our braces-lined teeth, looking more like twelve-year-old hookers to an outsider than anything else. We were all preoccupied with being professional ballerinas one day, determined to live out this dream until we were all dancing for ABT (did we know any other ballet company when we were twelve?). But we were young; we had time; and anyway we were so busy between rehearsal and homework that there wasn't time for anything else. We moved through the motions, did the performances, got our ten-year roses.
me yet again of my humanness, reminding me yet again that my sanity came at the price of whittling down my extracurricular activities. The "whole kit and caboodle" turned from a sparkly purple box that smelled of loose powder and liquid eyeliner to an obscure reminder that my childhood is behind me. It became something I could no longer have. The sky is no longer the limit in adulthood.
Still: nothing is lost. This lie refocuses me on the career ahead that I've chosen. I can no longer do fouettes on the tips of my toes, but I've written an ending to the third full book I've ever written. It makes the path I've chosen that much more important, the dream that much more worth it if/when I accomplish it.
And we face the most delightful of realizations: that the people we played "Foundation" with are still around. That a new generation of girls is going into dance, learning how to use clear nail polish to keep pointe shoe ribbons from fraying, figuring out to turn out from the hip and what the quickest route is under the stage to get to the other side on time for a different part's entrance AND make a quick change. This new generation of girls is learning the power that their bodies can have, the good eating habits they need to resist temptation of falling prey to body image issues. These new girls get to learn these things because either we teach it to them or we take them to class.
And the friends whose feet we smelled in our dressing rooms, taking silly photos and writing ridiculous notes on the mirror--those friends are still around.
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PART OF THIS COMPLETE BREAKFAST
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