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Personal Narrative-Pointe Shoes

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“Pointe shoes, pointe shoes, pointe shoes, pointe shoes…” I kept singing, skipping up to the door. I could tell I was thoroughly annoying mom, hence her exasperated expression. She had not heard the end of my ‘finally getting pointe shoes!’ excitement.
“OK, calm down,” she attempted using mom voice, but her upturned lips and her laughing eyes

couldn't disguise the fact that she was just as excited as I was.

“Fine,” I moaned falsely, strolling up to the door with a pep in my step. I gripped the metal doorknob, and pulled open the door. The merry-sounding bell chimed as the door creaked open, and I stepped inside, bag of ballet shoes slung over my shoulder. My senses were immediately bombarded with the smell of new shoes and paint. The …show more content…

Pointe shoes are super fun!”
“I know, it’s really fun,” I echoed. In reality, fun didn’t even describe how awesome I felt to finally have my very own pair. Up until now, I’d just been on demi-pointe. “Let’s see,” she pondered, squinting her eyes at my pretty-disgusting-looking feet. “Got it!” she exclaimed. “So you need either Grishko or Russian Pointes, right?” she double-checked. My teacher had us either buy those two brands of pointe shoes, she wanted to be sure we had the correct kind for the type of dancing we were doing.
“Yes, that’s correct.” I confirmed. My fitter then disappeared into the back room, embarking on a quest to find the perfect pair for me. My stomach was twisting itself into knots with excitement. It was not long before my mind wandered,!!!!!!!! I almost felt guilty that after one class, though, I got an OK for pointe.
“Mom, this is actually happening!” I sang with enthusiasm, as mom came to investigate what I was up …show more content…

She handed me something that looked like socks, with everything cut off except for the toes. She mentioned they are called toe pads. Then she gave me a plastic bag with four small, clear, jelly-like things called toe spacers. She showed me that the jelly- like -things go between my big-toe and my second-biggest-toe. Then I put the toe pads on my toes. I wiggled my toes to see how they felt. I wrinkled my nose.
“They feel funny,” “That’s because you haven't put on the pointes yet,” she informs me.
I slipped on the pointe shoes. Oh, those perfectly-perfect pointe shoes! I took a deep breath. I have been waiting for this moment for so long, I thought, not believing that it was actually happening. I duck-walked to the ballet bar by the mirror, so the pointe’s didn’t slip off my heel. Gripping the bar, I slowly raised onto pointe, one foot at a time.
“Mom, I’m en pointe!” I squeaked, shifting my weight in the shoes.
It felt amazing! Looking in the mirror, I knew that all my hard work had payed off. As my dance teacher Ms. Kathy would say, we ballerinas bleed and sweat for our art. The lady knelt down, and felt how the pointe shoes

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