"WELCOME TO HELL, LADIES!" says Mr. Smith, the 1 of the adult ballet class. I force a smile as he presses down on my stiff back, attempting to be a little more 2.
When I was a little girl, I 3 elegantly dancing across the stage like the Swan Princess. With several reasons, my hopes of taking ballet lessons were killed. But every so often, usually while watching a brilliant performance of Swan Lake, those little4 of unfulfilled desire would speak up and say that I should take lessons before it's too late.
And here I am – more than 50 years – finally 5 for it.
I'm an absolute 6 , but 30 years older than the rest of the participants in the adult class. We are practising "port de bras," a ballet term for the 7 of the arms. I flutter(挥动) my arms, awakening my inner 8,"Your hands, they look like claws of a chicken," Mr. Smith 9 ,"No one wants to look at that. It's ugly."He points his finger at various body parts while 10 giving feedback, "Head up. neck long, chest proud, stomach in, back straight, bottom tight." Every time he looks at me, I instantly know that I've missed something. So I take note of every previous adjustment to gain his approval.
After a few sessions, I find myself looking forward to taking ballet classes with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Between classes, I 11 my posture in every window I pass. I'm 12. My hands are less claw-like and my posture a little more straight. And I constantly imagine I'm on stage, holding the audience entirely in my 13.
Learning ballet as an adult has been a much bigger 14 than I expected, but I'm glad that I 15and that ballet still appeals to me as it did when I was a little girl.
