It is a cold, rainy, Saturday morning. My Mom is hesitant about turning up the heat because it's not exactly the best thing for a singer's voice. During the night, my blankets trapped all my body heat, keeping me warm. My alarm goes off at 8:30 AM and I have to force myself out from underneathe the covers. Not an easy thing to do. It's even harder to take off my flannel pajamas and put on my dance shorts and tank top. I'm standing in the middle of my room, shivering, and yet I have to get myself ready for a full day of classes and rehearsals which starts promptly at 9:30 AM.
There is something magical about going to dance class in the middle of the winter. Dancers show up to class wearing any combination of the following warm-ups: legwarmers, knit tights, knit shorts, rip-stop pants (also known as garbage pants), sweat pants, mukluks or insulated booties, overalls, ballet sweaters, wrap sweaters, sweatshirts, and scarfs. As class goes on, and as bodies begin to sweat, one by one, the warm-ups come off. It might be 30 degrees outside, and there might be snow on the ground, but by the end of class the dancers have worked so hard that the temperature inside the studio gives an illusion of summer.
(I was thinking about this when I was coming home last night and thought it related to the magazine, so I decided to post it)
Lovely post. We all have that sort of thing we relate to. THis would make a wonderful photo essay.
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