:Q

I often wonder If I had been the one who had done ballet, as opposed to my younger sister, would that extra factor in making me a candidate for falling ill maybe saved me from the path that my life already foresaw? Girls who involve themselves in “expressive sports” such as dance, gymnastics and diving have a high-likelihood to develop some form of eating disorder, due to the high focus on the body’s pleasing appearance and aesthetic qualities. Therefore, maybe the signs would have been noticed earlier: maybe my parents would have seen the strain, people who were going through the same thing may have understood and stepped in. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so alone.
Would it have even mattered though? Would I have simply been one of many young women with relatively similar personality traits, in an incredibly high-pressure practice where the exemplary is barely ever enough?
I still want so much to dance again. I participated in the obligatory few-years of generic “jazz” dancing- looking back, I find it funny how even then I had a fascination with burlesque and cabaret, yearning for more than the pseudo-sexuality and shows of hyper-flexibility that those idiotic, overly expensive lessons offered.
Ballet is so much more in accordance with me. The elegant androgyny of the dancers, the romance in the stories that the dances themselves are based on. Ballet is so operatically-decadent and timeless- it is classical and rich. I adore its incredible finesse and its velvety, powdered and silken-soft visage.

It is odd how often I am told that I have a ballerina’s bone-structure. I wish it were true.
I find myself occasionally incorporating certain placements of the feet into my every day life: things remembered so well from the days when I would watch my sister as she practiced with diligence, listening to her tapes on excercises with her and then wishing so much that I could understand the French in which it was dictated.

Whilst making kebabs I like pretend that I am in a performance piece where it is imperitive to move as quickly but as gracefully from counter to toaster to counter to till. I like how it comes so easily when I am not actually thinking about it: for I have never been easy to allow myself to move. I know that I have a natural rhythm but I for so long I have not let it come out: over-judging and over-analysing each bend of my limbs. But I never actually hated the two-metre high mirror in front of me: it was quite magical to pirouette and flick my head around before my body had fully turned so that I would not become dizzy from the spinning.

I think I might look into adult-ballet lessons. It's something I've always wanted to do.