Butterflies Don't Wear Tu-Tu's....do they??

In an effort to put myself on a routine and not be a complete bum during my FUNemployment lady of leisure days, I started going back to the gym. I may have exercise ADHD because despite the workout playlist on my iPod I get bored. So to avoid giving up, I looked up the classes offered by my gym last night. I noticed there was a ballet class offered today and decided to check it out.

As a kid, I took ballet classes and loved them. Sure, I stopped taking ballet about 17 years ago but whats that saying about riding a bike??? (sidebar: for the record, I don't know how to ride a bike so I don't know if the saying is true or not! hahahah)

Ummm yeah, about that ballet class..........

It became pretty evident after about 10 minute in class that this butterfly was never meant to be a ballerina. EVER. Thankfully, I remember some of the stances and positions but ummm that's about it. And to make matters worse there were only 3 students in the class - some Baryshnikov Italian Vogue model hybrid, a soccer mom yoga devotee, and me. Every comment the instructor made about "form" or "don't compare yourself to others in the class, I knew was directed at my ass. And I couldn't help but giggle which made me think of the following list:

The TOP 3 Reasons I'll NAYVER be a Ballerina

1. My bootay. I do not believe that I have the biggest, roundest, most audacious video booty on the planet. However, when the instructor kept reminding me to keeping my backside in line with my shoulders, I was reminded of a similar situation at dance school as a youngster. Back then, my instructor would admonish me to "tuck it in" as she pointed to my behind. Finally, I told her "I can't tuck it in no more" thus dashing my ballerina dreams even back then. My booty is gonna stick out. I can't help it.

2. My boobs. Now, my boobs have NAYVER been in the Pam Anderson league. Until I gained weight, I was a proud member of the itty bitty committee. And even with the weight, I'm still not some busty vixen....well not without the help of my Vicki Secret undergarments but I digress. However, its difficult to be gracefully with your movements with the fun bags in the way. Every arm movement change, I knocked into my breasts. I couldn't help it.

3. I look broken. For those who don't me, let me share a secret with you. I have hyper-extended joints. In hood speak, I'm double-jointed. And yes, Ive heard every joke about this, so spare me (remind me to share my friends' DJ theory one day). Since there were only 4 people in the studio, I got a chance to get a full length snapshot of myself moving through these graceful movements. And Lord please forgive me but I look like a paraplegic. My legs were bent way too far back for anything I did to look as graceful as I pictured it my head. In fact, it looked like I met a bully in a back alley and refused to give up my lunch money. And when I tried to fix it, my knees were too bent to actually move my ass across the dance floor.

So you would think that after this revelation, I would say to hell with this ballet bullshit. Especially since, my ENTIRE body is sore like I just went one round with Mike Tyson. Seriously, I do not recall ballet hurting this much. I KNOW I wouldn't have let my mother spend all that money on ballet lessons and tu-tus for recitals if the shit hurt this bad. Muscles I probably haven't used since my last ballet class are SCREAMING AT ME!!!!

Call me crazy, but I'm sticking with it. As a matter of fact, this butterfly is going to the same place my mom used to buy my leotards and slippers as a kid. But this time, just for the slippers. I'll save the tu-tu for a night out on the town.