An envious sister

Some people were born to dance. My two sister are those fortunate people. One a London professional. The other,  a unique and creative break dancer. Which of course, leads to one too many dance offs on night outs (after a multitude of cocktails). Then, there is me. I have been forced into sweaty studios since a young age, being barraged with hardened mobs of soul stealing girls, too stone-faced teachers who give no care to the effects of their sharp words. Still,  I wake at dawn in nervous jitters from prying myself into too sticky tights and skin clinging costumes *cringe*.

However, after abandoning this hell I have been swarmed with comments. From people’s rudely inappropriate appreciation of my too slim form (I still feel like a bony mess). As well as envying me for my club dance moves. So here I am, thinking, perhaps I was never that bad at all?

 

 

Rhythmic 

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