Nikki Yeager

Dinner first, ballet second. 

That was the plan, but finding someone to go to a ballet with you is an impossibly difficult task. With options running out fast I got a hold of my Uncle Richard yesterday afternoon and a date was set. Dinner at his members only club (suit and tie required) and then off to the ballet. 

Unfortunately I don't get around to hanging out with my Aunt and Uncle very often but Richard was great. I met him across from Wall Street at his club and off we went on the grand tour. The buffet room, the reading room, the lounge.... everything was fancy to the extreme. Heavy yellow curtains framing the over-sized windows, dark wooden walls, dead animal heads in the billiards room. 

Then he whisked me off to the dining room where I was stuffed full of yummy pasta, chardonnay and an apple tart. And bread, which is my favorite part of any meal.

Overall-  Deliciouso. 

After dinner I daintily placed my napkin back on the table, admired the two forks and two spoons on either side of my plate one last time and then perched my glasses atop my nose.

Ballet nearing, it was time to turn my sophistication up. Ballets require class and wearing spectacles was the closest to class I could come at the time. So it was the best I could do. 

Anyways, the dancing started and out pranced ten skinny-minny girls in leotards and slicked back buns. They all entered the stage on tippy toes with their sleek heads hardly bobbing when they moved. 

Cue music. 

One by one the girls spun circles around each other, looping in and out of each others arms, squatting (somehow gracefully), leaping across the stage. Over and over again they contorted themselves into unimaginable shapes. While on their tip toes. Always in step with the other girls. Always glaringly graceful. 

We went through the 6 segments of the ballet with ease. The girls coming out in blue leotards, black leos, big puffy dresses, little skinny leotards with skirts. Always moving with ease, hardly making a sound. Gorgeous. 

But my favorite was the segment right before intermission, "How to Break a Heart". It was more contemporary dance than plain ballet. Out the girls came again in flesh colored leotards and electric blue skirts. Around they swirled like each dance before. 

And then the voice over entered the music. A woman's voice talking to the music about a 'little boy' who must break her heart. 

Cue man dancers. 

Three men bounded across the stage and quickly melted into the girls. Each girl seemingly enticing the men with their feminine wiles, always looking more beautiful than before. Always keeping their image. Never twitching so much as a muscle. 

.... which made me startlingly aware of gender roles.  

Somehow I found myself watching the men lift the women in the air, fling them around, tuck them under their arms. The women gracefully wrapped around the bodies closest to them, pirouetting between movements. Always perfectly in step with the choreography and never looking anything but relaxed. 

I found myself craving femininity- praying I could someday perfect the grace those dancers had. They were beautiful, they were feminine.... they were delicate. Soft. 

And that thought, the beauty of being soft, scared that pants off me. That's not how I view women and it's certainly not how I view myself. 

As the music came to a crescendo the smallest girl leapt into the air, soared into a mans arms and then leaned herself backwards holding her entire body up with nothing but her stomach muscles. 

To any average onlooker it looked smooth and girly as could be. Flawless if you will. 

But then I remembered those long gymnastics practices from middle school. You never, ever have skills like that until you have the strength. You can't move slowly until you have complete and utter control of every muscle in your body. Until you've sweat during long practices and pushed your body far past it's usual limits. 

And you never ever have grace until you have the strength to be feminine. To be graceful. To be beautiful. 

So maybe this time it was ok to find myself wanted to be dainty. Because this time I was actually wishing for something much more. Something involving a little muscle. 

And for a ballet, I think that was a pretty good takeaway. I expected to like the ballet, I didn't expect to think so much.