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A group of women gathered in a friend’s living room. Coats and shoes came off; feet went up on the Awesome uconn huskies toddler 2023 ncaa men’s basketball national champions bracket shirt What’s more,I will buy this coffee table. Reflexively, I appraised my friends’ socked arches. I felt like a lecherous man giving women on the street a once-over, but I couldn’t help it. B’s were almost flat, but I doubt it had ever bothered her. K’s were high—so high that, if she just stood up, she would be halfway up to pointe. I was jealous of her. What a waste, I thought. She doesn’t even know how lucky she is. I doubt she appreciates her feet; I wonder if she has ever even noticed.I’m not sure what I wanted to find when I went digging for old photos in the storage boxes beneath my childhood bed. Did I want to see confirmation of what I suspected—that I’d never been very good at ballet? Or did I want to find evidence that I’d been better than I remembered—that those years of devotion hadn’t been totally deluded? Digital cameras were not yet in everyone’s pockets in the early aughts, and my parents shot few home videos. If there were Polaroids, they have been lost to time or periodic bedroom purges. I turned up a few grainy VHS tapes of summer-program recitals, but I couldn’t pick myself out of the pixelated lineup.

It was in my old, defunct email inbox ([email protected]) that I located them: the Awesome uconn huskies toddler 2023 ncaa men’s basketball national champions bracket shirt What’s more,I will buy this audition photos I had submitted to summer programs at age 13. I wore a plain black leotard in front of a blank studio wall—costumes or busy backdrops would have been frowned on—and struck a few basic poses: my legs crossed demurely in fourth position on pointe; one leg raised in I looked different than I’d imagined. My feet looked decent, although I suspected I wore broken-down pointe shoes to make my arches appear more pronounced. My placement was passable. But the biggest surprise was my body. My hips were not the monstrosities I remember. The problem was the opposite: I looked weak. My arms were droopy and my balance looked precarious, as though my stringy legs might not be strong enough to hold up the weight of my body. I didn’t appear to be dancing so much as clenching my muscles and hoping I didn’t tip over. I wondered if I fell off pointe as soon as this photo was snapped. On a recent weekend trip to Seattle, my friend E and I found ourselves with a free afternoon. E hadn’t been to the ballet in years, and we decided to catch a matinee of Pacific Northwest Ballet’s Swan Lake. I had known E—a voluble writer in her 30s—for almost a decade, and I had never seen her lost for words. But at the end of the ballet, she was speechless. It was so beautiful, was all she could say.

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