My Unexpected Ballet Journey: 16 Weeks That Changed Everything
When I raised my hand in that first ballet class, I was immediately offended. Our teacher had just asked who had prior dance experience, and in a room of over twenty absolute beginners, far too many hands shot up. With only a single disastrous line dance lesson in my past, I was firmly in the minority. Little did I know this whim would become a sixteen-week transformation.
The Painful Beginning: Feet That Screamed
As we took our positions at the barre, my inability to distinguish left from right quickly emerged as a significant challenge. But that concern paled compared to the immediate agony in my feet. After what I would later learn were called tendu exercises—a series of flexes and points—my arches cramped so severely they felt stomped upon.
Scanning the room, I found odd comfort in seeing other students wince. When our teacher Kristina assured us this pain would pass with practice and massage, I remained skeptical. Yet she proved absolutely correct.
The Transformation Unfolds: Week by Week
By week five, the foot cramps had miraculously stopped, aided significantly by properly fitted ballet shoes. A classmate perfectly described this ritual as being fitted for your first bra—an intimate, necessary adjustment. By week seven, I began noticing how uncomfortable my regular shoes had become. By week twelve, I realized I had actually gone up a full shoe size.
The physical changes extended far beyond my feet. My glutes grew stronger, my calves became more shapely, and my turnout—that essential ballet rotation—improved noticeably. When I forgot to engage my core during class, my lower back delivered painful reminders of this oversight.
The Rhythm Revelation
Perhaps the most surprising development was my growing sense of rhythm. Before ballet, I couldn't hit a beat if it struck me first. After weeks of attempting to synchronize movements with our teacher's rhythmic counts of "One-and-a-two-and-a...", I found myself clapping along to 4/4 pop songs for the first time in my life.
Reality Check: The Skills That Remain Elusive
Despite these improvements, some fundamentals remained stubbornly out of reach. Even after sixteen weeks, I still couldn't reliably tell my left from my right. I discovered new limitations too: the pas de bourrée, the balancé, and pirouettes that consistently sent me stumbling sideways rather than spinning gracefully.
Many classmates progressed more rapidly, preparing to graduate to Sydney Dance Company's open beginner classes. While I'm not yet ready to join them, perhaps another sixteen weeks will bring me closer. What began as a casual observation—watching professionals perform one night, then passing studios full of amateurs and thinking "That could be me"—became a journey of unexpected physical and rhythmic discovery.
