dancing dreams.

As a child with a petite frame, I assumed I would be a natural gymnast. I begged my parents for lessons at the local gym, certain that with a little practice, I could become a member of the Magnificent Seven. Of course, my parents saw what I couldn’t see: a little girl without a bit of muscle or the ability to touch her toes.

Instead of gymnastics, I took piano lessons and studied, which to be honest, was fine by me. I cheered for the Magnificent Seven from my imaginary balance beam at home, and after the team won gold, my infatuation dissipated.

This temporary obsession with gymnastics was the closest I ever got to being interested in dance. Growing up, my best friend was a dancer — a talented one — but at 13, all that meant to me was a friend who was off dancing more than she was spending the night at my house. I was unimpressed.

Years later, in a moment of maturity, I attended that same friend's dance recital, and my indifference turned to fascination. My quiet, studious friend completely transformed on stage. Her movement and grace astounded me (so did the tons of make-up, but that's not the point of this post). The caterpillar to butterfly metaphor developed before my very eyes.

Still, I knew, perhaps more than ever, that dance just wasn't for me. The costumes, the rhythm, the flexibility: I wasn't interested, neither was I capable. Even girls with high self-esteems know their limits.

Now, though, looking at these pictures, I regret my ambivalence just a little bit. These girls can move, bend, stretch. They are grace defined.

The one comfort in my inadequacy, I suppose, is that I know every dancer's dirty little secret: their feet. Battered and bruised and tortured, a dancer's feet are permanently scarred from the movements we all admire from the sidelines.

It's funny, isn't it? How even the most graceful and the most beautiful have something to hide?

These photographs astound me, amaze me. They make me wish I could dance and twist and turn and move.

But I am okay with the fact that I dance and twist and turn and move in other ways, ways that are not as photogenic, but are certainly just as beautiful.

And I happen to really like my feet.

* all photos from The Ballerina Project, here.