Pre-Show

As soon as I smelled the hairspray, it all came back to me – dance hair. Tightly pulled back, slick and shiny hair all cemented together by some big can of generic hairspray, like Aquanet. I walked further into my past when I entered the dressing room – teenage girls staring too intently at themselves in mirrors framed by lightbulbs, pursed lips, wide open eyes, girls helping one another with getting each strand of hair into a hair tie. Those Steffi Nossen performance days at SUNY Purchase seem so long ago and yet a truth still remains – I don’t belong.

At the age of 32, I am clearly an outlier among the more than twenty or so middle and high school girls. Myself and other members of my modern dance class – we are those weird adults that dance. But even in my teens, I felt out of place in the dressing room. I was always ready within ten minutes. I didn’t see the need to spend more time than that on my face or getting into my costume. I didn’t know how to put on makeup then and however many years later, I still don’t. I’ve never owned my own makeup. Now, though, I am perfectly content with feeling like an outsider. As an observer, I watch the younger girls with a sense of confidence that could only be gained by being born more than a decade and a half before them.