"Hey pretty lady, will you show me how you dance?"
2003-12-11 | 3:00 p.m.

So... this is my entry. My thoughts are all over the place at the moment. I really could use more friends right now. I'm gonna have to make the effort to party as hard this weekend as I did last weekend to make up for all the shit I've been through this week. On a positive note, at least I'm down a couple pounds. I had a ballet show last night and one tonight, my final one for Florence, ever... it kind of hasn't hit me yet. I've done this for 13 year or something, and this is the last recital, the last time I'm going to be dancing ballet in front of my own town. It's a bigger deal to me than I can find the words or energy to describe.

I'm so tired. Exhausted, rather. I slept for 11 hours last night in the basement by the light of the Christmas tree. My mouth permanently tastes like Appedrine and whitening toothpaste. At least I look fantastic in my costumes the last few nights.

Despite all this negativity, I keep going. I feel like all is not lost, and that's oddly reassuring. Things are going to get really good really soon because they sure aren't going to get much worse. And even now, at their "worst" as it feels, they're not so bad. Now if I could just get my father to start talking to me again (No, we didn't have a huge fight or anything, he's just taking his anger out about work on me... another story all its own. This is not a very happy home right now.) I'd be all set.

Something fun: At the dress rehearsal on Monday, I changed in the dressing room above the stage. All the girls in my grade change up there while all the young girls (ages 3 to 15-ish) change downstairs in the larger studios, where it's absolutely fucking MENTAL and so much fun to watch after you're old enough to graduate to the real dressing rooms. I put on my first costume for "White Christmas": an emerald velvet body suit, strapless, with gold accents, a 5-layer long white tuelle skirt, long white sleeves (they look like gloves, but minus the hand part, they just come to a very attractive "V" at the hands) and a white floral hair piece. I went downstairs to check the order of the show, and I had to wade through a sea of 5 year old tap dancers all clad in pink Minnie Mouse body suits, glossy shoes, hair curled like it's going out of style, and so much glitter that I don't see how they managed to stand upright. They went insane when an "old girl" walked past. "OOOOH PRETTY!" they all squealed at once. It was wonderful. I felt like a real dancer. I never thought I'd see the day where I was the one getting hounded with questions like "Can you go up on your toes for me?!" and "Hey Mom what's HER name?" I went from being the child who loved to dance but hated being around dancers, to the dancer that all the children want to be.

I hope that in ten years I'm reading this same entry in their online diaries.

-S.

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