The Ballet Dancer - Dramatic Dialogue

So you want me to tell you about my job, about my life, that’s not easy. I’m not good at talking about me, I guess I’m a bit shy really, no I am, I know in my job thats a surprise but its true.

I was asked asked once would I want my children to follow in my foot steps, of course as i don’t have children that's hard to answer. But I suppose I would say yes and no, I know that's sitting on the fence, sorry.

Yes because at times well all the time it's amazing the highs, and high, higher than anything you could ever imagine. It’s amazing it really is so rewarding, most of the time anyway, but I suppose any job is like that.

It's not easy far from it, it takes a lot of work, an awful lot of hard work. The fitness involved is immense, not to mention the discipline and commitment involved, it’s not what I imagined as a child when I dreamed of this life. My days start early around seven, it was closer to five when I was training, but of course we got to bed earlier then as well, now I’m working I rarely see my bed before one am. We train most of the day, or have fittings, the public don’t see most of what we do, they think it’s easy. They don’t show you the dark side in the books on the television, I certainly had no idea how tough it would be, a lot don’t make it, can’t hack it, you need to be something special to do this job.

I have had my fair share of injuries too, it's an occupational hazard in this job, outsiders don’t realise, don’t see the pain, the disfigurement, oh yes permanent disfigurement is common. People don’t see that, they just see the glamour, the pomp and ceremony.

I can’t remember the last time I had a night out, not sure I ever had, least not the sort most people have. Do you know what I crave most, cream cakes, really cream cakes, I was …. let me think god how old was I last time I felt an eclair brush against my lips, the cream squirting out into my mouth, oh god I can taste it now, least I think I can but it's hard to remember what it was like, it must be over 10 years since I last had one. When I first moved away to join the company I used to have to walk past a patissier every day, it was torture, the smell, the gorgeous cakes in the window, It was hell. But I guess I am one of the lucky ones, for many food has become a real issue, a killer in some cases. What do I mean, well I shared a room with a girl when I first started. She was so pretty, so skinny, so lucky we all thought, took us a while to realise we never saw her eat, ever, I mean a lot of the girls don’t eat a lot, nibble on food like a squirrel, but Beth she was never seen letting food anywhere near her mouth. The one day I came home and found her, it was awful. She was on the bathroom lying on the floor in a pool of blood, I called an ambulance. She was still alive, just. I went to see her in the hospital, she was different, hooked up to wires and tubes, still refusing food. Turns out she was anorexic, the day I had found her they think she had fainted and banged her her head. They said she was lucky I found her when I did, I never saw her again, they took her away to a special home to try and fatten her up, she said. She was there for months before it happened, the disease won, Beth died, she was only 19, such a loss. We all went to the funeral, said our goodbyes, her mother blamed us, she said we had pressured her daughter, it was all lies of course, grief I guess. I’ve never forgotten Beth, I never will.

She wasn’t the only one with anorexia, I guess like the pain and disfigurement it's another occupational hazard.

I’ve not really told you about that side of it yet, but again I suppose I’m lucky, I have a high pain threshold, but still only gets you so far. Some days I sit and cry as I ease my feet into a bowl of hot salty water. The first time your nails fall off is pretty shocking but I’m used to it now. I don’t cry as often a I did, I accept it's all part of the job, my feet aren’t as bad as some, poor Emma, she went on for weeks, with a broken foot, we all told her to get it fixed, but she wouldn’t, too scared of losing her place she was. I suppose I would have been in her situation, it's hard to say.

It is hard, but for some it becomes obsessional, their cures and preventions are worse than the actual injury. One girl I know, no it's awful I can’t tell you, put it this way, whilst some just paint their feet in glue, she takes razor blades to hers. I can’t watch so I don’t really know what she does, but she says it prevents injury, I’m sure it doesn’t, I mean cutting yourself how can it. Shoes filled with blood are common place, but you get used to it, hardened to it.

A lot of the girls have issues, or a relationship they call it with painkillers, most take too many far too many, I don’t like taking them and of course as I told you I’m lucky with pain. But some seem to pop them like normal people do sweets, mmm sweets, Do you know, at christ I ate a whole box of chocolates. I prefer to just use ice on my feet, we must get through tonnes of ice between us, on feet and legs, backs and necks, some of the lads even fill baths with it. I shouldn’t tell you this, My brother is a Royal Marine, says he doesn’t know how we do, reckons he couldn’t.

But it's worth it it really is, all the pain disappears when you pull on your tights, get fastened into that costume, wedge your feet into those shoes, walk onto the stage and the lights come on, and then, the pain stops, nothing matters. The only thing that's important is the ballet. I can’t imagine ever doing anything else.