Happy New Year 2014!

So. It's that time of year again. I am not a big Thanksgiving or Christmas person, but I have always enjoyed New Year's and it's promise of clean slates and fresh starts. Even though the year always turns out to suck anyway, at least for a few hours we get to hope for better things to come. I probably made some resolutions for 2013, though if I did they were the kind that you don't admit to anyone and maybe forget after a few months, anyway. This year I resolve to... uh... well, you see, if I resolve to do anything then I will just disappoint myself so it's better not to bother with it. Maybe I will give up reading the comments on online news articles, again. That was the best resolution I ever made.
In real life I have had a really huge (and not always in good ways) year, with moving in to a new apartment, spending an evening in the ER, and setting my kitchen on fire being just a few of the highlights. In my ballet life I advanced from my level I-II class to a level 3 class once a week and a level 3-5 class once a week. I repaired, altered, tore apart, and otherwise worked over a billion bedraggled recital costumes, and I started pointe.
It's all been a bit hectic, really.
2014 I am sure will surprise us all, as they tend to do when you think about it. I am going to be launching a new blog to keep track of a sort-of-ballet-related art project I have been gearing up for for a while now. It'll happen eventually, anyway. There have been problems involving space issues, lighting, and camera remote controls. Stay tuned.
How about you guys? Any resolutions for the coming year? Pull off that triple pirouette you've been dreaming about? Write an in-depth history of the rise and fall of... something or other? Yes? No?

PS: I ordered myself a "nude" bra (there is only one company on the planet that makes bras that fit me, so it's always an ordeal and they have to be ordered sight unseen) which is the most boring but useful color of underwear. It showed up yesterday and it is totally not beige in a nude kind of way. It's ballet pink. Absolutely identical to my pointes. Totally hilarious, and now I wish I had bought the matching panties. 

This picture is probably not safe for work but too freakin' bad. You shouldn't be reading blogs at work, anyway.

Commando Like a Ballerina

This week was a grand experiment in underthingies. I am an underwear girl, I just am. But, dancers don't do the underwear thing. I decided to try it out when I had to skip a week of laundry and was down to one pair of Spanx to wear in lieu of proper shorts or a leotard. Well, I gave it two classes and I have a verdict: meh.
With regular tights it was pretty much standard operating conditions down there, but with mesh tights it was a lot less cozy and a lot more wedgie-making. I refuse to search for the proper word, there. Wedgie is as wedgie does.
Anyway, so that is how the experiement went. You know. In case you needed to know that for some reason.

In other news: our car got a flat tire yesterday and I only got to class by running to catch a commute train and squeaking in right as the previous class was ending. I would probably have just skipped it and stayed home but I have missed my Thursday class for the past two weeks (one because it was Independence Day, the other because I was an emotional wreck after dropping my cat off at the vet for 48 hours to have god-knows-what done to her) and I was in no mood to miss another. Annoyingly, I also had to take the train home afterward. Which I didn't have time to think about in advance. So I rode home in a sweaty leotard and pink tights. If I had thought about it I would have at least brought a sweater to toss on. As it was it was pretty embarrassing.
It reminded me of the pizza place. There is a pizza place that is on the way home from class so we only ever stop there when my husband has picked me up and we are going home. And we have been hitting it pretty hard the past couple of months because we've been all stressed out. But I only ever go in there in cutoff yoga pants and pink transition tights rolled up to my ankles and a sweaty leotard. They must think I just dress that way.

The Underpants Conundrum

So, I have special underpants that I save just for ballet. I know, I know, it sounds stupid. And, if you want to be serious about it, like professionals and students who are headed for ballet stardom, then you don't wear any panties at all.
But... uh...
I don't know. I just wasn't born to be a freeballer (or whatever the female equivalent would be. I can't think of anything that isn't SUPER RUDE). My mom was a supporter of the underpantless cause, but we were still trundled in to them as kids. And then a terrible thing happened when I was about 3 or 4. I was put in rhumba panties (you know, with the ruffles on the butt). And it was all over. I freakin' LOVED my rhumba panties. I was especially fond of a bright red pair. I wanted to wear those things constantly. Oh man. I've been an underpants fan ever since. I love fun underpants! So I never really go au naturel, or Scots proper if you prefer. And I am just not comfortable with clothes on without the panty barrier.
I could claim it was my professional wisdom speaking (underpants are a pretty important part of keeping your clothes clean and long-lasting. A bit of vajay goes a long way, as they say. Poetry unintentional. But run with it!) but to be honest I just feel a little squicky without my undies (you know. Stuff happens down there).
So anyhoo, I have these perfect underoos for dance class. They aren't specially made dance underpants (yes, they make those) or anything, they are just super sleek and snug and made with flatlocked elastic that is micro thin. So, no panty lines. They are awesome for skinny jeans and leggings, too. Cuz there ain't NO WAY I am wearing a thong. Okay, seriously? I hate to get sidetracked and all, but I have to rant a little about thongs. They are evil and wrong for anything other than personal sexy times. I used to work in a maternity store (it was HORRIBLE) and our hottest sellers were packs of maternity thongs. REALLY? Come on ladies. Be serious, now. What the what? Sheesh. Okay. I am done being sidetracked now.
The whole point was that I got these silly fabulous underpants at Costco about a year ago (which means they don't have them anymore, of course. That is how Costco rolls) and so I have to be super careful to sort them out of my laundry and pack them up with my leotards and tights so that I don't get caught half an hour before class running around the house like a crazy chicken shrieking "WHERE ARE MY UNDERWEAR?? YOU HAVE THEM DON'T YOU? I KNOW YOU DO! GIVE THEM BACK!"
Especially because I'm the only one home at the time...