|pain in grace|
I had the most amusing conversation with a gym-goer the other day; in the middle of my skipping-rope spins she saw it as a great time to chat and asked what I do other than 'jump-rope' for fitness and muscle tone. My reply (mid jump) was "ballet, a lot of it." Skipping rope still spinning, I smiled (even if a little unsettled) at the frowned confusion that came upon her. Then there was the verbal reply which had my rope slamming to a halt. "Oh, right...ballet. But ballet dancers are really, really skinny. I guess you're... small...but...strong?" I should mention, I'm perfectly happy with my build less commonly related to that of a ballet dancer (I'm not anorexic).
That conversation plus a few more have shifted my thinking to the masked strength of the ballet dancer and how often this talent gets a confused wrap. I've been confronted with the opinion that the ballet barre is lined with delicate, fingernail-precious men and wafer-thin-lettuce-munching ladies (admittedly, I do have lettuce for lunch today...); prancing-folk that just don't cut it in the athletic department! I won't deny that there's the dancer who has a touch more of a delicate side that to him and the female who's bony limbs look a little less nourished. Thing is, the ballet dancer has to be one heck of an athlete, stable-as-a-rock, machine-like with a physique envied by the heaviest of gym-junkie-weight-lifting-posers.
A ballet dancer is trained to fool their audience in thinking the most challenging feats to be effortless, weightless, dream-like visions of artistry. I guess, if I go by the conversations of late, I can say they're doing a damn good job of it! Sneaky little rascals.
|male dancer, female dancer|
|maximum, single handed|