When I was eight or nine years old, I learned a lesson. It came via ballet class, like so many of my early life lessons.
I started taking ballet when I was four, added jazz at five and tap at six. From the start, there were milestones we were taught to look forward to: first tutu, first recital, first performance in The Nutcracker, going en pointe, etc. Continue reading →
My childhood home is just shy of a shrine to the old me. I never really gave it much thought because as an only child, who else would be featured on my parents’ walls for decades? Surely not, like, art.
When I visited for Christmas, I snapped these photos thinking they’d be good for #TBT on Instagram.
When I shared these pics on Instagram and Facebook, I expected giggles. Instead I had a LOT of people comment that they either didn’t know I danced or that they didn’t realize that I really danced. They were surprised.
So yes. A long time ago, I used to dance. A whole lot. And not just ballet. Also tap (so fun and still a good party trick) and jazz. This wonderful woman was one of my teachers.
I quit studying dance cold turkey when I left for college at seventeen years old. Part of it was due to injuries, but mostly I was over the time commitment dance required through the years and ready to, well, goof off.