Hip-Hoppery

May 28, 2009

I'm standing in a ladies room off the hallway from a coffee shop inside the Center. Meticulously, I pull my bangs back onto my head and pin them down, using the rat tail end of my comb to lift the hair to a height an inch above my hand. This is the "poof" my friends used to call. It's reminiscent of a Gwen Stefani or Stacy "Fergie" Ferguson hairdo. Then, I struggle to put each contact in before covering my face in another layer of makeup for the stage.

K. is getting ready next to me. She is approximately 30 years my senior.

"How nice you are wearing stage make-up for rehearsal" she says.

"It's the only way to make sure there's no problems with the lighting and my make up." And she watches as I continue the long process. Even I am fascinated by the application of stage make-up. I take care not to dirty my red spandex tank top and black jazz pants that serve as my costume.

I find a spot in the auditorium, hide my bag, and continue to stretch my cold muscles. There isn't much I can do to increase elasticity but pray. I leave the stage exhausted from 3 minutes and 46 seconds of continuous agony.

***

May 29, 2009

I'm not sure what possessed me to spend 35 minutes on the elliptical at the gym. The lactic acid in my hamstrings and calves ached. At least on this day, my lungs are not so much my enemy. I make time to eat a healthy breakfast and take two naps. I spent the afternoon resting, overcome with a slight fatigue. I also purchased a comb attachment to bulk-up my ponytail for the show, and I affectionately call it my Weave.

I arrive at the Center agitated and late. My Weave is in place, but my make-up is far from begun. For this evening's show, I've moved my make-up process to the dressing room I am sharing with my choreographer and his cast of 8 - 12 year old hip-hop dancers. I start with a mild soap to remove any grime and then prime my face. Again, I slip my contacts in, and then begin the whole stage make-up application as younger girls pop in and out of my peripheral vision. They canvas my supplies, most of which are spilled across the whole of a banquet table. One young girl tells me that her aunt "has the exact same brush. Except hers twists up!" and she presses the pick of my comb into the fluffy blush bristles. She giggles as she changes the brush's shape, creating rifts in the otherwise level surface. After 45 minutes, I am done. I take a minute to change into my costume. A runner delivers flowers to the room, 3 carnations. One is marked for Alissa, and the other two are from Evan and my parents to me. The little girls look at Alissa with envy. "Where's my flower?" one girl asks, and she looks at me. Each time she passes my pair of carnations, she examines the card to make sure they're really for me.

In the hallway, Rich and I review the end of the dance. During the rehearsal, we ended up on different ends of the stage on our exit (wrong) and our synchronized arm motions were two counts apart. Happens when adrenaline is running high. Our review was count by count, motioning ourselves through each step without half the usual energy - called "marking", and even after that, we found ourselves breathless. We took several minutes to stretch before being called down to the stage door. Rich paces around nervously, his energy uncontainable. I am the opposite, I stretch and take deep breaths. I love the stage more than anything in this world and I'm at the deepest level of bliss when I am in the spotlights. One last spot check with hair spray and we are in the wings...

...Afterward, I am not nearly as breathless as I was the night before. I attribute this to the 35 minutes on the elliptical. I take some pictures in costume before running to the ladies room to change into "lay clothes" and venture out for Pizza and Beer. So much for dining like a dancer.

7 months heavier

"Pudgy aspiring dancer, age 24, limited experience in tap, extensive study of ballet and jazz, and non-traditional study of hip-hop - seeking opportunity to train as a semi-professional"

It's been months now, but I'm getting it all together. My training? One day a week... Mondays: Advanced Hip Hop and Ballet. Have I lost any weight? Probably not. (In fact, I'm confident that I have gained weight... all my size 6 jeans are awfully snug these days and I can't seem to get them feeling any looser, even if i do hold off for weeks before sending them through a cold water wash.)

Here are my (gasp) measurements:

Bust: 38.5"
Waist: 31.5"
Low Wasit: 35"
Hips: 39
Arm: 11"
Thigh: 23 1/2"

Increasingly bigger. This seems to be a recurring theme. If not my boobs, my wardrobe, or my debt.

I'm performing in my first show in over two years at the end of the month. I am now at the heaviest I have been in my life. "They" never joke when they say skinny and single or lovey and chubby. I admit, I used to have much more time to myself at the gym. That just might be what the doctor ordered.

In October, I resumed physical therapy for the meniscus tear in my right knee. Compensation injuries followed, including weakened ankles and less flexible hips. Evan moved to Cleveland in November and not long after we got engaged. That's probably when my regular training came to a halt - the 3 days a week dropped to one. Other stresses resorted to some very bad eating and since then I've been attempting to bounce back. I've never been a "dieter" by any means, but with the risk of injury growing with my weight, I might want to start. Also, saving for a wedding, I've reduced my health care coverage and can't imagine what will happen if I lose it. So here I am, still frustrated at the barre.

10/14/08 hestitant steps

I haven't danced in 3 weeks.

I feel more overweight and restless than I have in months. I'm contemplating using diet supplements (I know there's no such thing as a quick fix, but I feel more desperate than ever).

My measurements:

Bust: 38"
Waist: 31"
Low Wasit: 34 1/2"
Hips: 37"
Arm: 12"
Thigh: 23 1/4"

Weight: 140 lbs

I hate myself

9/17/08 stop the gravy train

I twisted my right knee. Meniscus tear, I suppose. I'm taking it easy for the next few days, icing it and then I'll see my doctor. But until then, no dance.

Day 6 - After burn

I've been rummaging through old files and old pictures trying to find something where I'm dancing... which leads me to old formal pictures from college with my long time ex-boyfriend. For all intensive purposes, we'll refer to him as B.

B. was my first well... first a lot of things. We were together for 5 years, of which I cannot even count how many of my performances he attended. My Junior year Recital, countless football games, basketball games, talent shows, competitions, benefit concerts, impromptu (but staged) public performances, greek functions, cultural shows... the list goes on and on and on... but he was a trooper. I'm not even sure if he enjoyed watching me dance, but he was always there waiting for me with flowers or a hug and a kiss. I loved him for this devotion.

It took a year and a half after our breakup to really be friends. And even now, I wouldn't say we're back to where we used to be. By virtue of distance, we may never be close again (he got his dream job in California leaving me here in Cleveland empty handed). But he was so much a part of what made me want to dance... I gave up dancing to follow him to Pittsburgh and he supported me wherever I found a place to dance. He never gave up on in me in the five years we were together, even if he couldn't keep a rhythm. We fought often at formals about the whole dancing thing (I liked to roll solo, he wanted to dance with me.) And he promised me that when we moved in together in Cleveland, he'd take dance lessons for our wedding.

Well, we never got the chance. Never even got close to a ring. I broke up with him after he made the move from Philadelphia back to Cleveland. And by the time I was ready to come home to Cleveland, he had decided that he had to give up on me. I was toxic for him, and maybe he didn't use those exact words, but for years I had abused this love...

...and tonight, for some odd reason, I feel very sorry that I gave up on him so many times before that, when I couldn't be the girlfriend he needed... when I chased boys who seemed cuter or funnier (which in reality, none of them are.) I look at the pictures and all I see is his handsome features.

And I'm very sorry that by giving up on me, I gave up on dance...

Day 6 - Ballet 1

Never in my life has a man taught me how to dance (aside from Uncle Jodi and the electric slide) until today. I didn't catch his name, but I did catch his resume - Hails from Kansas City, dancing since 5, went to NYU graduated with honors in Dance - Went to Austria where several of his pieces were performed, dances in a company based on the East Side of Cleveland.

And I can't even do a grand plie without my ass sticking out.

Strengths: Balance, control

Weaknesses: Turnout, Posture, Flexbility

Terms I learned today:

Coup de pie - low on the ankle (cut the throat of the leg)
De ga je - a tendu but a few inches off the ground, same movement
ron de jam - i've been doing these for years but i didn't know this circular motion had a name

How I feel about dancing today:

Inherently crushed by my inability to keep my feet turned out in first or lift my leg any much higher than my knee height. Once upon a time this came naturally.

Day 5 - Revisting the Combination

I came up with a combination today while driving back from the grocery store. My entire morning wasn't working out for me, so this little glimmer of my own time to dance made me feel magnificent. It's to the David Cook song "Time of My Life." The combination works perfectly with the chorus since the song is timed in 3:4 waltz tempo which lends itself perfectly to ballet. It begins with a turning balance on the right, then on the left, followed by a small run into a right je te. It then retreats backwards with two straight balances and a pirouette. Moving to the right, a sashay, pas de burre, a beat to the right, then left, then behind, plie a la second, preparation, and three outside pirouettes, very sharply.

It's too bad I don't remember what half these moves are called but I suppose that'll come after a year in Ballet 1.