Ballet, in my own opinion has numerous positive, therapeutical effects. I feel at ease; my body and soul are in perfect harmony. My private dance instructors name is Marc; he’s taught me ballet for the past two years and is 28 years old. For dance, my hair is always tied back into a sock bun as I don’t want it in my face and all up in my grill. I always wear a leotard, tights and Pointe shoes. As I walked into the Dance studio, I nodded at Marc as a wordless greeting and sat down in front of the long mirrors to begin stretching. To start off with, I did some dynamic stretches then went into the splits to get a deep static stretch. Ballet is a great way to develop flexibility; I put on my pointe shoes and walked to the barre to begin some barre exercises.

“Chasse, pirouette in front attitude, fondue back. Come on Ivy; in time with the music,” Marc (my instructor) said.

“I’m trying!” I replied.

“Not hard enough! Grand battement, Grand plie; come on deeper than that!” he said.

I sat on the floor; ugh his voice is so annoying! Usually he’s not so temperamental but today he just seemed to be in a bad mood.

“Get up,” he said.

“I don’t want to,” I replied.

He walked over to me and lifted me up in the air like a baby.

“Presage, point your toes!” he said.

He was holding me quite securely but his hands could have been a bit higher up on my waist for more support. He slowly put me down but kept his hand on my waist.

“See, you can do it! Where’d all your self-confidence go?” he asked.

“Ivy baby, I’m here now,” Kris said as he made a grand entrance and walked into the room decked out in his hip hop attire.

“What the hell, Kris? You’re everywhere!” I said.

“I’m just where I need to be, honey,” he said.

He walked over to Marc & myself and removed Marc’s hand from my waist.

“You can go now, sensei,” Kris said to Marc.

“Okay, well I’ll see you next week, Ivy,” Marc said.

“No, don’t bother coming next week; she doesn’t need your assistance anymore. Toodles,” Kris said.

Once Marc was out of the room, Kris turned to glare at me.

“What?” I asked.

“What do you mean; what? How could you let that freak violate your personal space like that? Don’t you have any self respect?” he asked.

“Oh, don’t you dare talk to me about self respect, when you go around touching women in much worse places. We were just dancing! What do you expect from Pas de duex; for us to not touch each other at all? Grow up Kris!” I said.

 “Did you see where his hands were placed when he was lifting you? Honey, instructors’ hands shouldn’t be anywhere near there! Thank goodness that ape’s gone!” he said.

“Look at what you did! Now my dance teacher’s gone! You can go away too, I really don’t want or need to see your face right now,” I said.

“I’m here to teach you how to dance, duh,” he said.

“You…teach me…how to dance?” I asked.

“Why can’t I teach you how to dance? Do you think that I don’t know how to dance, huh?” he asked.

“Obviously,” I replied.

“How do you think that I would be able to get all the girls at the club if I couldn’t dance? That’s absolute nonsense! I’m notorious for my smooth dance moves which make women’s ovaries explode!” he said.

“Ew, you’re so up yourself! Well, you might as well give a demonstration of your ‘amazing’ dance skills so I can determine if I even want you to teach me how to dance,” I said.

He walked over to the speaker system and plugged in his white I Phone 5 to play the song ‘Thinking about You’ by Frank Ocean. 10 points for good song selection; I love that song! He walked to the middle of the room (centre stage) and started dancing. Honestly, I didn’t expect him to be good at dancing; I didn’t expect myself to be amazed by his dancing skills but I was. As much as I hate to admit it, I was mesmerised by his ability to move around the dance floor. He combined numerous different dance genres to complete his piece; he used hip hop, contemporary, ballet, jazz, tutting, jerking and acrobatics all in one short 3 minute dance. He looked at me the whole time he was dancing and I must say that I am extremely good at hiding my emotions so I had a stoic expression on, critiquing every single step he made.

He stood panting at the end of his dance; “So, how was I?” he asked.

I started cheering and clapping as loudly as I possibly could; “Whoo, go Kris!” I screamed.

“I’ll take that as I was breathtakingly amazing!” he said.

“Pfft, don’t get a big head, but you were amazing,” I said.

“So was there an ovaries explosion?” he asked.

“Pfft, you wish,” I said.

“Okay, your turn now,” he said.

“It’s my turn to do what?” I asked

“To perform a dance for me of course, silly!” he said.

I wasn’t bothered to go to my bag and get out my phone so I walked over to the speaker system and hoped that I could find a good song on Kris’s phone. My, oh my, he has a very good variety of different songs; we actually have a similar taste in music. I chose the song ‘People Help the People’ by Birdy to dance to. I have been doing ballet since I was 3 years old so I just decided to stick to a complex ballet/contemporary/jazz routine. Dancing comes very naturally to me and is a fantastic way for me to express myself; every single step was graceful, effortless and enticing. Just to annoy Kris, I looked at him the whole time I was dancing. His face is so easy to read! He was actually drooling at one point! I finished with a backflip.

“So, how was it?” I asked.