Ballet as an adult: It changed everything

I tugged my black shirt down–black is slimming, those women’s magazines always told me in my teens–and folded into myself, willing my body to be smaller. Staring in the mirrors as my soft pink shoes tripped their way across the glossy floor in stilted trepidation, I caught sight of every lump, bump, every angle that made me sneer in disgust at my swollen body. I tried to dance on.

But now, months later and more plies than I thought my legs could take, I look in the mirror differently. Fondness, inspiration, admiration usurped disgust along the way, imperceptibly replaced by a newfound appreciation. My feet glide across the floor, still hampered by ineptness at times, but in a fearless way despite it all. I peruse the mirrors and spot strength where I once saw flaws. I see beauty where I once saw repulsion.

It isn’t about slimmer hips or a flatter stomach. It isn’t about numbers on a scale or perfection or a flawless body.

I’ve come to learn that it’s about a newfound context of what my body is capable of. It’s about looking in the mirror and seeing capability, not defect. It’s a posture of pride in how far I’ve come, in building something from a foundation of literally nothing. Most of all, it’s about rising above the fear of imperfection to embrace growth. I can do things that feel terrifying, and in that, I like the person who looks back at me from the mirror. Finally. Perhaps for the first time.

I didn’t just learn French and posture. I didn’t just learn how to find a properly fitting shoe or to spot or how to build muscle needed for leaps (someday).

At 36, ballet class taught me something I didn’t realize was missing–a confidence in my body and mind. A knowing I’m more than capable of even the most difficult things. And above that, a love for the beautiful feats my body can reach, imperfect or not. 

Ballet taught me to quiet my mind and heart, to just be. To revere the power of my body, my spirit and the passion that moves us all if we quiet the inner nag, social media, and the past.

Ballet, in a sense, taught me to breathe into who I am and what I’m capable of. It taught me to look in the mirror and see beauty and grace where I once thought there was none. It taught me to grow up. Most of all, it taught me I can be whoever I want to be when I look in the mirror.

I let my black shirt ride up my back and don’t tug it down. I’m too busy focusing on the leaps I’m making and the woman I see smiling back at me with peace.

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