Barred by Ballet

Chapter 3: The Grand Date

It's Friday night and I'm freaking out. I still don't know what to wear because I had no time to think during the week. I don't even remember telling my parents who I was going out with. You know what? That might actually be a bad idea considering the event and all. Mother certainly would not allow it and Father... well let's just say he'd be in a blasting fortissimo of Beethoven's renditions.

I rummaged through my neatly organised wardrobe trying to compile that perfect outfit. I couldn't find anything rock-like and now my bed is a rocking mess of clothing. Major crisis!

I glanced up at my kitty clock on the wall and it read 6:00 pm. I had "T minus 1 hour" counting down and I hadn't even gotten to hair and make-up. I really don't wanna make Dylan wait on me for such petty girl problems. I did what I always do when I'm in a slum - slouch into the bean chair, close my eyes and hum.

After about a minute of my deep concentration ritual, I opened my eyes and I spotted a dark grey beret that my parents bought me for our trip to France. It was still in the plastic packaging. I yanked it out from under the masses of clothing and shook the bag in excitement. "Yay!" I giddily exclaimed. It was one of those knitted berets with the ribbons that wrapped though the base and that formed a big bow on the side. My bow happened to be hot pink - my second favourite colour!

Upon seeing that beret my outfit instinctively patterned through my head. I envisioned my white mid-sleeve turtle neck tee, grey waistcoat with tiny hot pink sequins, black denim short jeans and to top it all off my white, grey, pink and black hitop pastry sneaker from the glam pie collection. And just to embrace my inner 'otaku-ness' I considered wearing those Japanese 'loose socks' (i.e. the American equivalent to leg warmers).

Now for the hairstyle! "Oh Gosh!" I grieved as I glared into the mirror. My hair is frizzy! That is :- it's really, really curly. My mom is European but my dad is Portuguese and African American mixed which gives him nice wavy man-hair but it leaves me with extra frizzy balls of fur! Okay, okay, I'm being a bit dramatic - my hair is soft to comb through but it doesn't stay where you put it.

After a major quantum battle of hair versus comb I eventually decided to embrace the curls using curling gel activator and follow the natural path my hair is forcing me into. It most certainly doesn't want me to have straight hair right? Because obviously Mia can't have it! I thought to myself.

After that raging hairstyle battle I did simple make-up. Eyeliner. Blush. Mascara. Pink lip-gloss.

I checked the clock again and it read 6:55 pm. Awesome! I had some time to snap a few selfies for my blog. I looked kawaii! (i.e. really cute).

As soon as it was 6:58 pm I grabbed my mini clutch purse with cash, keys, school ID (just in case) and iphone. I snuck out of the bedroom, crept down the stairs and out the door. I walked down the rather long driveway and exited the front gate where I stood awaiting Dylan's arrival.

I took a long deep breath in; slowly moved my arms into fifth position and closed my eyes - my extremely nervous ritual. I usually counted from one to fifty backwards until my butterflies went away or I lost count and had to start over again. I pursed my lips together tightly - something I had a tendency to do when I'm deep in concentration.

10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... -

"I didn't think you'd want to go first base on our first date!" Dylan exclaimed.

I jumped!

"You're a regular bad girl, huh?"

I stood there with a startled expression my face. I was NOT expecting my first encounter of my first date to be like this. I looked like a terrified cat jumping out of water. Dylan however had a faintly amused expression on his face which then turned into a chuckle and then he really couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out into a fit of contagious laughter - which I caught and so we both looked like two hiccuping seals jerking our bodies back and forth with the occasional snort here and there.