Once upon a time I wanted to take ballet lessons. I really just wanted a tutu. That phase passed and I moved onto other things. But if there was some small remaining lingering little part of me that still wanted to dance on pointe shoes, it died never to return after saturday night.
viewer discretion advised, especially if you don’t like looking at toes.
The little girls dressing room was kinda how I imagined it would be.
In the big girls dressing room it looked like they'd been through some kind of foot torture for confessions to crimes they’d never committed.
Oh, wow, your toes get bruised from dancing?
No, well, only because I forgot to trim my toenails .
I decided not to ask any more. I could see the Second skin, the tiger balm, the Band-Aids, tape, gel thingy, and fuzzies all being used by each dancer in her own special routine to bundle her toes up in the least painful way possible so she can go out again and do what she love to do.
Yeah, I now think being a gingerbread,
or a mouse
or a soldier
would be just fine.