“Turn out that leg, girl, that’s right, I knew you had more turn out then that!” I am in à la seconde and the teacher lingering over me at my Friday ballet class is excellent. He is prestigious, (the first African American dancer at PNB I am told) and he is inexplicably teaching the open ballet class. I’m sure it is accidental because the company members look startled when he comes in, tittering lightly amongst themselves, the man is overdressed for teaching: he is wearing brown corduroys, a white button up, and a lovely cashmere sweater.

“I have more turn out?” I say meekly, my thigh shaking.

“Yes, you would be surprised how many people don’t use their full turn out,” he claims, putting a hand on my outstretched arm in seconde, “Now tighten up that arm, girl, make it look better.”

I am thrilled at the 360 degree improvement in my free Friday ballet class. I sweat buckets working the barre, his instructions simple and excruciating. He corrects everyone–including company members and the crazy swiveling hips lady in front of me (never again will I stand near her; several times I stepped into her stupid puddle of water). I decide that I admire him. Maybe it’s because he ‘noticed me’ in class, and took the time to point out my full ‘turn out potential’ (Me! Who can’t even do 5th position anymore and always sneak into 3rd!)

We swing our legs cheerfully back and forth, demi-pointe our feet into big fake arches, and drown our bodies with nourishing water.I am dressed like a teacher, a modern dancer, a slob in saggy, baggy black cotton lycra pants and ancient tank top. My boobs are mashed down by the typical sports bra. My dumb bangs hang in my face. This time I notice the prima ballerinas in their gorgeous Mirella Leotards and magnificent canvas slippers showcasing high arched feet. The modern male dresser with the back brace is not there, but another fellow treats us by removing his sweatpants to reveal the teeniest pair of white hot pants I’ve ever seen (WHITE, people, see-through white) showcasing his dance belt and hard rock abs. Even my new favorite teacher notices, “Short shorts are baa-ack!”