Someone please
tell me when it became the norm for women in their twenties to go around saying
they are old. I've been in the presence of two lovely, super competent
twenty-somethings this week, and they have both made comments about their age
around me.
I got to feeling
a little stabby.
Dance-wise, when
I was 25, I was on top of the world. I was in New York, dancing in a fantastic company, where we were
all about the same age and were immersed in our art. Although I wasn't as
thrilled with myself as I should have been, my body felt and looked great, both
as a dancer and as a regular person. In class, I never had the chance to
feel old because just about everyone in class was my age, give or take a few
years.
Even when I was
around teenage dancers, whether they were taking class with me or were my
students, I didn't feel old. Sure, I had several years on them, but what was
wrong with that? I was happy to be older, because that meant I was a professional
adult, instead of a kid at the threshold of her career.
When my body
felt tight or was injured, I didn’t think it was because I was ready to collect
my Social Security. It was because I was
either teaching too much, had been working improperly, or that my body had been
the victim of punishing choreography.
Never did I
think I was ancient.
Until now.
Seventeen years later.
Save most of the
people I take class from, I am now nearly the oldest person in any class I
take. I get my ass to class with the regularity of Halley's Comet, even
though my teaching forces me to demonstrate some challenging movement. Plus
I've delivered two babies via C-section. You could put a cowboy hat
through the hole in my abs, which also means my pelvic placement is worth a
barrel of Monopoly money.
I’m the
Notorious O.L.D. (Oldest Leaping Dancer).
I’m not ashamed
of it -- I’ve earned the right to think of myself as old, or at least older. I
brazenly tell my students that “I’m O.L.D.” when I mark something or feel like
I've been on a forced march after doing a combination full out. Deep
down, however, I’m 99% sure that if I started going to class more often or got
back into a Pilates regimen, I'd be killing it, especially because my
dance mind is light years smarter than it was when I was 25.
Is this age thing
because our culture is so obsessed with youth that 20 is the new 40?
Maybe, but I
think it's more than that.
Saying you are
old is an easy breezy excuse. Getting old is inevitable -- who can blame you for that? The alternative is acknowledging that you have other
priorities or are just plain lazy (Dude, I could NOT stop binge-watching Scandal!); you aren't working
properly ("It’s like my technique is a bus and I keep missing it!”); or
maybe that your body isn't really that suited for dance ("I've seen steel
girders with more flexibility!").
Ouch! You'll settle for old, won't you?
Dance is one of
those professions where it is easy to feel long in the tooth. With the
Internet’s love affair with extreme training, we are constantly treated to ten
year olds who perform like prima ballerinas. Flashy tricks abound, while artistry and the clean technique of the mature dancer often
seem like undervalued relics of a bygone era. Feeling past
one’s prime is relative, with everyone staring enviously down the line at the younger bodies.
Still, no matter how genuine
the feeling is, saying you feel old in front of someone older than you is like
going to an Overeater's Anonymous meeting in tears because you pigged out on wine
and Skinny Pop every night and can't button your size 2 skinny jeans.
It's just
obnoxious.
Please, people. Go commiserate with folks your own age. They’ll give you the understanding you
need, instead of a nasty comment.
Or a punch in
the mouth.
