Deformed Essays

I lost my double pirouettes this winter. I don’t know how long I’d had them because I don’t remember the date that a double pirouette first came to me, but I do remember the moment. We were all masking in class, so it was before vaccinations. Mine was purchased at the studio: black with tie-dye text that said “DANCE MODE: ON” above a drawing of a little toggle switch. I took to the center of the floor with my small group, did the lead-in butterfly steps Miss Diana teaches, the prep, a single, the lead-in again, and, suddenly, a double. The room erupted in cheers. Jill ran up to me, clutched both my hands and cried, “Dance mode! ON!” I was happy my first double came to me surrounded by friends, but I’d put in the groundwork at home, painstakingly repeating rotations every day in quarter-turns, half-turns, and singles; following along twice a week with a conditioning workout for balance, core strength, and ankle strength; practicing my relevés on the train and in the line at the groce