The Worst Thing I Ever Did
So, this is bad. I haven’t spoken of it in decades and have only told a few people of it, but now I’m putting it out there, confessing and moving on. It’s kind of a long story, so you’ll have to bear with me or just bugger off. Firstly, I am going to define why this is the Worst Thing I’ve done; most of my sneaky, evil deeds are done for Fun, Pranks, Dares, or Karmic Justice, but this act was motivated purely by malice and the desire to maximize psychological damage on another. That way lies the Dark Side.
Secondly, for those who are unaware, it must be understood that ballerinas are basically piranhas in tutus.
Well, when I was a little girl I began taking ballet classes. I’d like to point out that I was a sweet, sensitive and Lawful Good child. I didn’t have the drive or desire to be a dancer, I just wanted the exercise and super powers (impeccable posture, nigh-on-perfect balance and unsprainable ankles). I was pleased to be taking some classes with a friend — “Amy.” We would help each other stretch and chat together (verbally eviscerate the other
piranhas little girls). Until.
I need to add another side note here. Ballerinas start out wearing and practicing and warming up with Ballet Slippers, soft leather moccasin-type shoes. When a girl’s foot bones harden up enough (around age 11-12) and she has developed strong enough muscles to handle it, she will advance to wearing Pointe Shoes, which are stiff resin shoes covered in satin, tied on with ribbons and have a hard “box” around the toes that allow the wearer to go “on pointe” — stand and dance on the very tips of her toes (I told you super powers were involved; this is unnatural, crazy shit).
Well, Amy was a year or two older than me I guess, because she got pointe shoes before I did. And I ceased to exist to her. She stretched with other girls who had pointe shoes and — instead of mocking clumsy pirouettes with me — snarked with them about who taped their toes and whose ribbons were hanging out (big, important pointe-shoe-things that I just wouldn’t have related to). I just wasn’t the sort of ten year old that would go up to her and say “dude, what’s up?” Instead, I let her do her thing while resentment for her cavalier rejection festered within me.
And then came the recital. I was in several dances, as was Amy. Amy also had worked very hard on a solo dance to a gospel medley in which she would wear a lovely flowing white dress. This dress was hanging in the dressing room where we would wait for our turns to go on stage. Every time I walked past it, repressed rage would simmer inside my gut as I thought of how un-gospelly, mean and hypocritical Amy was and how all of her family was here to see her dance so angelically.
Finally, I was walking out to go on for the Act I finale. Amy’s solo was in Act II. It came so natural and smooth, that it didn’t even register with me that I had done anything until much later. I gracefully strolled by the costume rack and blotted my lipstick right on the front of the shoulder of her flowing white dress, pasted on my stage smile and danced beautifully. Sadly, I did not get to witness the results of my sabotage as I was on stage when she was changing into that costume and in the dressing room while she was on.
Looking back on it now, I am pretty horrified at my behavior. Imagine being an 11 or 12 year old girl about to dance your first solo and your costume is blatantly stained, right in front, very bright and obvious and you’re the only person on stage under the lights. That’s the sort of experience that will send you to therapy for a few years. Amy, I know the chances of you ever seeing this are very low as we have fallen completely out of touch, but please know that I am really very sorry about that and stuff.
And that is the worst thing I ever did — at least, the worst thing that I will publicly admit to.