Hardly Workin'

I chickened out of master class on Tuesday. Well, it wasn't really so much a chicken-outing as a "there is no way in hell this is going to work out for me so I think I will just skip it"-outing. So I spent the night at home with my husband and kitties. An evening of reflection and family togetherness, if you will. Mostly what it means is that Thursday's back-to-back classes kicked my ass six ways to Sunday (of Sunday? from Sunday? I've heard it so many different ways. Almost SIX ways, I would venture.) I'm still sore. My shin splints, thankfully calm the last few months, flared up right as we were starting grande allegro. And then my foot chimed in after pre-pointe class like "what the crap do you think you are even doing, woman? This foot was made for walkin'. Walkin' not goaty-footing around like Miss Thang. Knock it off."
Why the heck does taking a few DAYS off of ballet make going back feel like the longest, hardest slog on the planet? I can't even imagine attending a studio that gives it's students the entire season off. I would just turn in to a big blob of goo over the Summer and when I came back I would probably have a heart attack.
Someone I work with often tells the tale of working at a ballet company during a Winter storm. The studio was shut down due to flooding or something and the dancers freaked out because they couldn't fathom not going to class. I can sort of see that, actually.

State of the (very small ballet-related) Union Address

In level 3 tonight I didn't have my posture corrected at the barre. Not even once! I am trying really hard, maybe my anguish is just making my teacher feel bad. And then we were doing a combination across the floor. Waltz turns and balancés with appropriate port de bras. And, amazingly, I managed to surprise myself by actually pulling it off. BAM! I'm sure it didn't look so great to an outsider, but I was doing it! Anyway, I was pretty chuffed with myself. But then we were supposed to do this crazy glissade-assemblé-glissade-assemblé-pas de bourée-pas de bourée-glissade-assemblé-glissade-assemblé-tombé pas de bourée-pas de chat-pas de chat craziness. So, my winning streak ended abruptly and with a whimper of protest rather than a cheer of triumph.
BUT OH WELL.

I am supposed to be working on stretching and strengthening my calves, ankles, feet, toes, hamstrings, whatevers.  For this shin splint business. 4Dancers and Gaynor Minden both posted this link on Facebook today, which looks like a lot of stuff I should probably be getting off my ass and doing. Maybe tomorrow after pilates. Sigh... this whole stretching/working out/practicing at home thing just isn't working out for me. Okay, it NEVER works out for me. It's the self-discipline thing. You know, the fact that I don't have any. I really enjoy the structure of my dance classes. Should I be taking the stretch and floor exercise class at the ballet studio? Probably. But then again, that's another $11 per week and... well... to be honest I would like to waste some money on something else right now.
Speaking of which, I have been covetously eying this leotard for months now:

Oooooooh! Isn't it pretty! And so perfect!

Decent coverage AND cool meshy parts!

But the fact is that I have four leotards already. And what I need, what I really need, is a cat fur colored leotard. Because I stand there and pick fur off of myself ALL DAY and in the end I am STILL covered in fur! Argh!