Channeling my inner ballerina

When I was 7, I was allowed one after-school activity, but because I grew up on an air-force base there were limited options. I was given the choice of joining The Brownies or attending Ballet Classes – and because Ballet was for sissies, I signed up to become a Sprite in the Brownies.

Now, many years later, I’m realizing what a naive 7-year old I was to attribute a “sissy” tag to Ballet.

I’ve just spent the last hour at “Pop Physique” one of the many LA classes that incorporates a Ballet Barre into the exercise routine. I went out last night for a few drinks at the bar, and then spent this morning sweating Pinot Grigio out of every pore, at a less enjoyable Barre.

Each session I’ve attended Pop Physique it’s the same — I pliè, dip and tuck until my calves quiver and collapse in defeat, and wonder if I’ll ever get the flexibility to kiss my own ankles. Maybe if I’d made a different set of decisions at 7, I’d be one step closer to dancing The Nutcracker Suite.

Read I was a Cigar Toking Sprite