LJ Idol- Week 23 Underdog
Deep breath. Back straight. First position. Bend the knees. First position. Tip toes. Arm up. Swoop. Heels to the floor. First position. Breathe.
"You need to breathe when you dance, Emmalynn. It's coming out forced," Her instructor moved forward to straighten her back. Emmalynn took another deep breath as her instructor whispered, "Breathe."
After the session was finished, Emmalynn grabbed her bags and walked outside. The fresh air and bright lights hit her face full on as she walked to her car.
Open the door. Sit down. Deep breath. She sighed. Tomorrow's recital would be her biggest yet. Representatives from the leading dance company would be there to see her as she danced. Right turn. Merge. Left turn. Park. Each direction recited through her head just as all others. Her schedule was meticulous, and she did everything to perfection.
When she entered the house, she immediately rushed for her room. She did not- could not- speak to her parents tonight. She would complain of a stomach ache, and go to bed early. "Emmy, come get some dinner." She did not escape her mother’s eye.
"I'm not hungry." Succinct. To the point.
"Nonsense, you will eat. Now grab a plate, and get some food." Her mother motioned to the table full of food and eyed her daughter suspiciously. "If you don't eat, I will not let you dance tomorrow."
She reluctantly grabbed her plate and put the bare minimum on it. She meticulously arranged the food in a circle, and immediately cut in half everything on her plate. She tapped the piece of chicken twice, cut it in pieces, tapped again, and put in her mouth. She chewed for twenty seconds, tapping on her leg slowly. All voices were drowned out as she slowly ate the small half of a piece of chicken. She didn't hear her father talking to her, until he repeated himself twice.
"Emmalynn, stop tapping and eat your food. It's not a game, its dinner." He was stern, unable to help the anxiety in his voice as he knew that something was up with his daughter.
She smiled, forced, "I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm just anxious about tomorrow! I can't wait to get a contract with the company." She took another bite, and tapped her foot. Twenty seconds. Swallow. Two taps.
After dinner was over, she went up to her room. She closed the door, and put some music on. She grabbed the Clorox wipes from her dresser, and entered the bathroom. She wiped down the toilet, and the floor in front of it. She kneeled down, lifted the seat, and proceeded to stick her finger down her throat. When she didn't succeed the first time, she stuck it farther down. Eventually, she gagged. She threw up whatever little was left. When she was finished, she got up from the floor, closed the toilet lid, and flushed the toilet. She grabbed her wipes, put them back on the dresser, and began to practice her dance routine in her room.
The next day, she woke up at six that morning, just as she always did. She took a shower, put on sweats, and went for a run. She felt especially dizzy, and had to push through the confusion as she ran past the three mile stretch she always did. Run harder, faster. Deep breaths. In. Out. Done.
When she got home, she took another shower. She checked the time, and knew that it was nearing check in time for the recital. She grabbed her stuff, and ran out the door, knowing her parents wouldn't stop her. She yelled, "See you guys later" as she passed them. Open the door. Drive away.
As she neared the auditorium she noticed her competition in front of her. Beautiful, skinny. They all looked so happy. They were so lucky, to be blessed with the thin, flexible bodies, while she had to work. She was the underdog, and she would prevail. She had worked for months to flatten her stomach, to trim her hips.
Out of the car. Grab the bag. Into the auditorium. She forced a smile as she greeted her instructor, her fellow dancers. Stretch. Reach. First position.
She warmed up, and noticed that time was dwindling down. The music was playing as the first dancers were performing. First position. Tip toes. Arm swoop.
She received the nod from her instructor as she finished her warm ups and came in queue for her performance. "Emmalynn Johnson." She heard her name and the applause that followed. She rushed to the stage. Dizzy. Slower.
First position. The curtains raise. Bright lights. The dizziness worsens. She takes a deep breath and she begins her routine. Deep breath. She stumbles. She corrects, and overdoes it. She falls. She passes out.
She wakes up on a gurney, unable to move. "Mommy?" She asks out, unable to see with the lights and people surrounding her.
"Oh, baby, why didn't you tell us?" Her mother cried from somewhere in the distance.
"What happened?" She screamed. She didn't understand. "Is this a dream? Did I win?"
"Baby girl, you're in the hospital. You haven't eaten. You collapsed. You broke your leg. They had to rush you here..." She couldn't hear her mom as she tried to take in the words her mother had uttered.
"I lost?" She asked. She closed her eyes, as her vitals started to drop.
"You need to breathe when you dance, Emmalynn. It's coming out forced," Her instructor moved forward to straighten her back. Emmalynn took another deep breath as her instructor whispered, "Breathe."
After the session was finished, Emmalynn grabbed her bags and walked outside. The fresh air and bright lights hit her face full on as she walked to her car.
Open the door. Sit down. Deep breath. She sighed. Tomorrow's recital would be her biggest yet. Representatives from the leading dance company would be there to see her as she danced. Right turn. Merge. Left turn. Park. Each direction recited through her head just as all others. Her schedule was meticulous, and she did everything to perfection.
When she entered the house, she immediately rushed for her room. She did not- could not- speak to her parents tonight. She would complain of a stomach ache, and go to bed early. "Emmy, come get some dinner." She did not escape her mother’s eye.
"I'm not hungry." Succinct. To the point.
"Nonsense, you will eat. Now grab a plate, and get some food." Her mother motioned to the table full of food and eyed her daughter suspiciously. "If you don't eat, I will not let you dance tomorrow."
She reluctantly grabbed her plate and put the bare minimum on it. She meticulously arranged the food in a circle, and immediately cut in half everything on her plate. She tapped the piece of chicken twice, cut it in pieces, tapped again, and put in her mouth. She chewed for twenty seconds, tapping on her leg slowly. All voices were drowned out as she slowly ate the small half of a piece of chicken. She didn't hear her father talking to her, until he repeated himself twice.
"Emmalynn, stop tapping and eat your food. It's not a game, its dinner." He was stern, unable to help the anxiety in his voice as he knew that something was up with his daughter.
She smiled, forced, "I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm just anxious about tomorrow! I can't wait to get a contract with the company." She took another bite, and tapped her foot. Twenty seconds. Swallow. Two taps.
After dinner was over, she went up to her room. She closed the door, and put some music on. She grabbed the Clorox wipes from her dresser, and entered the bathroom. She wiped down the toilet, and the floor in front of it. She kneeled down, lifted the seat, and proceeded to stick her finger down her throat. When she didn't succeed the first time, she stuck it farther down. Eventually, she gagged. She threw up whatever little was left. When she was finished, she got up from the floor, closed the toilet lid, and flushed the toilet. She grabbed her wipes, put them back on the dresser, and began to practice her dance routine in her room.
The next day, she woke up at six that morning, just as she always did. She took a shower, put on sweats, and went for a run. She felt especially dizzy, and had to push through the confusion as she ran past the three mile stretch she always did. Run harder, faster. Deep breaths. In. Out. Done.
When she got home, she took another shower. She checked the time, and knew that it was nearing check in time for the recital. She grabbed her stuff, and ran out the door, knowing her parents wouldn't stop her. She yelled, "See you guys later" as she passed them. Open the door. Drive away.
As she neared the auditorium she noticed her competition in front of her. Beautiful, skinny. They all looked so happy. They were so lucky, to be blessed with the thin, flexible bodies, while she had to work. She was the underdog, and she would prevail. She had worked for months to flatten her stomach, to trim her hips.
Out of the car. Grab the bag. Into the auditorium. She forced a smile as she greeted her instructor, her fellow dancers. Stretch. Reach. First position.
She warmed up, and noticed that time was dwindling down. The music was playing as the first dancers were performing. First position. Tip toes. Arm swoop.
She received the nod from her instructor as she finished her warm ups and came in queue for her performance. "Emmalynn Johnson." She heard her name and the applause that followed. She rushed to the stage. Dizzy. Slower.
First position. The curtains raise. Bright lights. The dizziness worsens. She takes a deep breath and she begins her routine. Deep breath. She stumbles. She corrects, and overdoes it. She falls. She passes out.
She wakes up on a gurney, unable to move. "Mommy?" She asks out, unable to see with the lights and people surrounding her.
"Oh, baby, why didn't you tell us?" Her mother cried from somewhere in the distance.
"What happened?" She screamed. She didn't understand. "Is this a dream? Did I win?"
"Baby girl, you're in the hospital. You haven't eaten. You collapsed. You broke your leg. They had to rush you here..." She couldn't hear her mom as she tried to take in the words her mother had uttered.
"I lost?" She asked. She closed her eyes, as her vitals started to drop.