On Mondays, I take Ballet. I have to qualify that and say that I am not a dancer. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea and envision anything remotely resembling “So You Think You Can Dance?”

I’ll answer that question right now. No. I know I can’t dance. That is why I am taking Beginning Ballet. My class has a dozen women in all different stages of life. Some have taken dance, while others like me are newbies. We accept each other and attempt to move in unison.

I flex, I point, I bend, I lift. I attempt the positions with hesitation and a lot of comparing my form with the lady at the bar to my left (she took dance for years as a teenager and looks like she knows what she’s doing).  I copy what she does on the regular. My arms are always a few counts behind, my plies are three counts (they should be four!😬), and my feet are often in the wrong place.

But, even with my many failings, I love this class. I wear my leotard and tights and pretend like I look like a Ballerina, and not a thirty-something mom of four, that is carrying twenty extra pounds. There is no judgement in my Ballet class,  just my own insecurity with my dancing ability, which I am okay with. I enjoy learning a new language and a new way for my body to move. I am grateful for my body that can move and my mind that can learn new things.

On Mondays, I am a Ballerina.





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