This little piggie had blisters.

There are parts of my body that make me crazy self conscious - parts that I've never been particularly fond of being seen. I'll spare you the details.
Then there are the parts that I like. For awhile I thought I had really pretty hands. Not so much now because I'm seeing my age in them, but there was a time when I thought they were very nice. My belly has always been nicely flat (unless it was the home of a fetus.) My hair is silky smooth, and the red streak in my hair is pretty cool, too. I like all these things. They make me smile. But, by far, one of my favorites is my feet. They're nicely shaped with pretty nails. The toes are a little long, but hey, nobody's perfect. I enjoy wearing flip flops and sandals with no reservations. In essence, I'm proud of my pretty feet.
With that said, it's time to say goodbye to them. No more perfectly manicured nails, no more soft, smooth, callous-free skin, no more, I say, no more. Yes, my pretty little piggies' days are numbered. A future of blisters, callouses, and broken, gnarly nails awaits. All thanks to these pretty little gems.

I made the crazy decision to go on pointe this semester, something I thought I'd never do. It's somewhat expensive, painful, and time consuming - something one would normally begin at age 11 or so and most likely quit by the age of 25. But I really wanted to give it a go. It's a new challenge, an important part of ballet, and something that will make me a more well rounded teacher. Plus, it's just beautiful. I could watch dancers on pointe for an eternity.
And, let's face it, I'm not getting any younger. So, it's either now or never. It's quite humbling to be in class with girls one third my age, but hey, one third is better than one fourth, right? My goal is to do it for at least a year, and so far it's going swimmingly. We'll see what my ugly little toes and tired ankles have to say next January.