The other day in ballet was a typical day, except for one thing: a photographer.
I was warming up at the barre when my instructor told us that a photographer was coming in to take pictures of us. She said a similar thing Tuesday, but the photographer never showed. At first, I thought this was him or her taking a rain check, but then I learned that the photographer was with one of the local newspapers.
Now I know you're wondering, why do I even care? Well, my mom gets this particular newspaper. My entire family gets this newspaper. I don't want them to know that I'm taking ballet class.
The story is I've been sneaking out to take these classes. I've told my mom that I'm driving to class at my college, but instead, I've been going to a local studio. I would wear my tights and workout clothing underneath jeans and a tshirt and then change once I got there. My shoes are hidden in my room along with my tights. I've been working so hard to keep this under wraps that a photograph with me in a ballet class would ruin it.
I don't want my family to know I'm doing this because, well, let's just say it was only this year that a picture of me went up on the wall that wasn't me in a recital costume or in a dance uniform. I quit dancing ten years ago. There was huge family drama when I quit and I still get hounded about why I quit to this day. I don't want them to know about this because this is supposed to be only for me. It's my own little sanctuary. I don't want to come home and talk about it with my family.
Luckily, the photographer understood. My instructor placed me on the end so I wouldn't be in the pictures and the photographer didn't get a statement from me after class. I think I'll be okay. So, obstacle hurdled and over with.