When I was in my first year of university, a friend of mine accused me of being boring and undaring with my choice of shoe colours. She had reasonable grounds for such an accusation because 95% of my shoes at that time were black. The other pair that made up the remaning 5% was white.
My habit of black shoes persisted until recently. During my shopping spree in Seattle, I bought a turquoise pair of shoes which I’ve been wearing around the house for the time being, until it’s warm enough to wear some of my brighter matching tops outside as the summer weather arrives.
Then yesterday, I was quite excited to buy some new ballet slippers… a first pair since those by-gone days of lessons that stopped at the age of eight. I have fond memories of my ballet classes (save the time I forgot to bring my dance gear to school for my after-school lessons, so my Grade 3 teacher drove me home to get it, then to my lesson, but in the hurry I forgot to pack my tights and felt so self-conscious about wearing my purple knee socks in class that I couldn’t enjoy myself that day.)
I decided to take ballet lessons, starting this week (hopefully the class has enough people in it so they won’t cancel it) for several reasons. I miss the freedom of creative movement; somewhere in the way of adulthood, I’ve become hindered in that freedom. More than that though, my hope is that ballet will help me get back to that same carefree awareness I had of my body as a little girl. I want to be comfortable in my own skin as much as I can and enjoy this God-given gift that is my body rather than keep working toward some crazy ideal that doesn’t exist for me.