Chit-chat Wednesday and The Ballet Class

There was a time in my life when I would have baulked at the thought I would be the shortest and dumpiest in any class. But with age comes fearlessness re what others may think. And so this Monday I survived my first adult ballet class.
I was awfully proud of myself as this group has been dancing all year together and were rather professional. It was surprising to me how well I was able to follow some steps (yes, even twirls and spins). The teacher said, 'You catch on quickly, Jo' and the class applauded. Probably more in relief that there was something dumpy and hopeless amongst them!
Lest you think me a total braggart let me quickly say that I was even more pants at the stretching at the barre work than I could have ever imagined. I was like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. In fact, I got myself stuck on the barre whilst my teacher pushed, pulled and screamed encouragement, breaking both my hips and pelvis so that I could be more flexible in the following lesson.
I was terribly stiff from years of sitting hunched over a laptop. I left the class 'floating on air', as they say, but the following day I woke up in agony. My muscles had suddenly realised they were alive and weren't happy about the fact.
I shall return next week if I can find the strength to walk there.
And yes, that is me above as a young ballerina in Lae, New Guinea. How I wish my legs were as shapely as that now! Still, it was my Inspiration post about the lovely Juliette Binoche that spurred me on. If she can take up dancing in her forties then it's good enough for me!
Hope your week is going well. I am still unpacking boxes and living in chaos and clutter. Renovation is such a slow and horrid business. xx

tin man image source:

Chit-chat Wednesday and Damn right I'm a ballet mum!

I was chit-chatting with a mother during an outing at a local park and I mentioned my daughter took ballet classes. The effect on the mother was startling and instantaneous. She pulled her neck out like a swan and hissed in a disgusted voice: "I can't believe you're one of THOSE ballet mums."
I saw myself through her eyes, dragging a little girl to classes filled with pampered children in pink spangly costumes being put through their paces to be a STAR whilst I waited in the wings, screaming encouragement, pulling my hair out when my daughter faltered with tears in her eyes, begging to go play in the sand-pit.
Of course all this is nonsense. I studied ballet at a very basic level when I was young. I firmly believe ballet or dance studies encourages discipline, teamwork, co-ordination, self-esteem and a sense of achievement.
My daughter occasionally grumbles at having to get out of bed early on a Saturday, but always loves seeing her friends in her dance class. We have one of the best ballet teachers I could imagine. She is adored by many and is a firm disciplinarian of the old school but with a heart of gold. I am grateful my daughter has received the chance to train under her for a period of time. When my very ill father and mother travelled to visit us, our lovely ballet teacher broke her rule and permitted them to view the class and treated them like royalty. My parents also fell under her spell and often refer to their brief meeting with her.
I’ve observed how well my daughter has begun to carry herself. She is very tall and I know the ballet is helping her posture. In fact, I’m going to sign up myself for a series of Adult beginner classes in the hope of losing some weight and improving my dire posture. I am still amused by the shocked expressions on the Scribe's and Daisy's face when I announced this. It is time to set our dancing expert a real challenge.
Yes, damn right I'm a ballet mum and proud to be one!

all images taken from we heart it