Postcard 16

Last night I went to see the New York City Ballet perform an all Balanchine set.  You do not need to know anything about ballet to find it impressive; their bodies, their movements-  it is perfection in form, and perfection is hypnotic. 

It is also depressing. I never wanted to be a ballerina, but I have always wanted to be thin.  More than that, I want to be delicate.  Isn’t it interesting how femininity is now encapsulated by a featherweight frame?  I myself cannot separate the two: the pools of shadows created by a prominent collarbone will always be more womanly to me than a pair of heaving breasts.

In DC I ran all the time, mostly because I couldn’t get my brain to shut off at night.  I needed to tire my body out so my mind would be forced to sleep as well. And then basketball and running, all put on hold during a brutal winter. 

I can feel my muscles twinging- aching for activity. I need to find myself in the road again. I was never thin, I will never be delicate, but I used to be strong. I can be strong again.


Wish You Were Here,
B