pirouette (On Hold)

entrée •one•

<< entrée: The opening dance number of a performance, or the initial introduction of the characters in a dance. >>

••••

The art of dance has been speculated on for centuries. 

The biggest ongoing controversy that spans many countries and cultures is whether or not dance is a sport.

You've heard it time and time again. Should dance, any type of dance, be considered a sport?

The answer is simple really. Ask a dancer, they'll tell you it's a sport. Without a doubt.

Ask a spectactor, they'll tell you it's not. 

It's not one person's fault or stupidy over another- in some cases they are in fact both correct. 

The main determining factor is where they live. If you ask someone who lives in America, they might tell you that it's not a sport. And it's not that it shouldn't be considered a sport, it's just that dance is not looked on in America as being as big of a deal as say, football.

It's looked on here as a hobby, a pasttime. In some cases, maybe even a hope or a dream.

But not really a sport. Not a career. Not the one thing you work your entire life to get to, and if you can't have it then your existence is futile.

No, that's Russia.

••••

It happened when I was three years old. I was sitting on the couch, in between both of my parents, and there was a documentary on TV. Neither of my parents were actually watching it, as they were both on their phones messaging with friends and playing online scrabble.

However, I had nothing better to do than watch the huge TV right in front of my face. It happened to be a documentary on the art and history of ballet.

I remember watching the girls flit across the stage, and all the shoes and the tutus, and the music pounding, and I remember that moment because it was the moment.

It was the moment I knew I wanted to be a dancer.

From that moment on, I took to dancing around the house all the time. My dress up clothes I quickly fashioned into skirts and leotards, and my ballet flats were imagined to be ballet shoes.

My mom noticed this eventually, and when I was five she signed me up for ballet classes.

It's funny- one documentary has shaped my entire life.

••••

I'm pretty much a totally normal teenage girl. I'm short- shorter than average, but not like a dwarf. I weigh 120 pounds soaking wet, which is a blessing and a curse. 

I have green eyes, kind of like grass in the springtime. They're the spitting image of my mother's eyes, but my hair- my hair is my father's.

And it's the only thing about me that shouts for people to notice me. My hair announces me before I even open my mouth.

It's curly - not tight curls, but more wavy with a corkscrew here and there- and it's bright freakin' red. 

I love my hair- I do. It's different and unique, and I really do like it. The problem is my name.

My name plus my hair lends itself to many remarks, and trust me, I've heard them all.

Within five minutes of people learning my name, they've already come up with new funny jokes and nicknames. I just expect it to happen now, you know? I brace myself and then roll my eyes when the jokes come pouring in.