Tulle time

Last night I went to see Giselle, one of my favorite ballets of all time. Somewhere in the middle of Act II, after a particularly breathtaking series of grand jetes, I began to ponder art, pain, and feet.

Here’s the thing about ballet: you cram your feet into painful shoes, contort your ankles and hips into absolutely unnatural positions, manage to hide your grimace with a smile– and it all looks GORGEOUS. Is it the tulle that distracts from the torture?

I’ll venture to say that ballet is one of the few masochistic acts fully sanctioned by mainstream society (unless you count “cute” tattoos, but those are just ridiculous). Hip hurting? Leap higher! Sore bunion? Cram that sucker back into that pointe shoe, sister. And quit whining.

All I’m saying is, I took one look at my 3-inch pumps this morning, put them back in the closet, and pulled on some Uggs.  And then I tap-danced to work.