So - after living here 3 years, I finally-finally-finally got up the nerve to walk into a ballet class.

 

Which, incidentally, kicked my ass.  I'm sore from toes to the end of my frizzy hair folicles, I am limping around like an old lady who's been suffering from acute osteoperosis for the last 20 years, and Markus is getting sick of my groaning everytime I have to reach for my coffee.

 

I looooooooooove it.  I am in hog-heaven.  I love going to ballet class.  Now, let me be frank... I suck at ballet.  I was always more of a singer than a dancer, and the dance that I actually liked the best was tapping.  But ballet was always there as a discipline, the foundation for everything else, blah-blah-blah, and my post-ballet class body is the shape I'm happiest being in.

 

I miss theatre, I miss the performing, I miss the costumes, and the makeup and the other performers, and the (I'll be honest) laughing and clapping.  But - I also miss the music, and the work, and the rehearsal and ... did I mention the work?  So I thoroughly relish every sore muscle I have, and I'm not even going to freak out that my body can't (yet) do the things it could 3 years ago, and I can't lift my leg much higher than my knee.  It was just great being able to dance to live music, and adjust my form in the mirror, and remember that exercise doesn't have to be a chore.

 

Then, Markus and I went out to a fancy-schmancy restaurant and probably managed to eat a whole cow between the two of us.  But that's okay.  Because I'll work it off in ballet class tomorrow.

 

Talk to you soon!