Ballerina Boy Erin - Chapter 2

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The next fall found me in a private academy about 25 miles south of our house. I was a day student, (as compared to the twenty students that boarded there) so that I could continue my ballet studies with Miss  Tingley and my mom, and so that I could stay at home because there was nothing as wonderful as my life with mom, and I really didn't want her to be alone. The school was very small, very exclusive, and very progressive.

Although it was sanctioned by the state, and academic requirements were extensive, there was great emphasis given to the arts and to individual self-expression. It had students there from grades five through eight. There were only eight people in my grade, and I was the only boy, although the 6th grade had two boys, the 7th grade had two,  and the 8th grade had one. The total enrollment of the academy was forty-two students, so the boys made up but 15% of the student body. None of this mattered to me. What I liked about this school was that everyone seemed to genuinely respect each other and that we were all pretty unique in our own ways.

Everyone seemed to be so good when it came to art class,  and lo and behold, for gym class we took dance! Not classical ballet,  mind you, but a kind of movement/modern class. I couldn't believe it.  And although I was the only boy who had studied ballet, nobody made a  fuss over that like at my last school. In fact, some of the girls complimented me on how good I was. For school dance class we only had to wear loose clothing, but I still wore my dancewear. Some of the others in the class were students of ballet too, and wore their "ballet pink". But what was most captivating about my classmates at this academy was that it seemed everybody played an instrument of some kind, sang, studied dance, or wrote poems, short stories, etc.

Every child was so very creative. It was wonderful. Instead of getting ridiculed as my hair grew longer, my classmates complimented me on how nice it looked. During a lunch break in my first week, Betsy, a pretty girl with beautiful waist-length hair offered to braid mine for me. And when we came back to class after lunch, no one said a word about my hair being braided. We just went on with the day.  We regularly had "express yourself" days, where it was your job to come to school and "make a statement". The teachers left it up to the students to figure out what to do.

At first, it seemed face painting was the popular venue, then masks, sometimes outlandish clothing, costumes representing animals or famous persons, and often nonpermanent hair  color(green, blue, etc.). What did I do? Well, the first year at the school I usually wore different masks, and fancy hats, and once wore a  lion's costume. However, when I was in 6th grade I made a point of stepping up my sewing so that I (with the help of my mom) could design neat things to wear on "express yourself" days. I went from billowy purple pants to a neon green tunic, to a yellow satin vest, to a thigh-length creation that I adapted from a pattern for a girl's scoop neck jumper.

It was sewn together from different pieces of plaid. It was so neat. I still have it as a keepsake. When I wore it three of the girls in my class asked if they could have it. Abby and Lauren told me that it was the coolest creation they had seen in a long time and that it would be extremely difficult to top myself after that. They actually suggested that I wear it again, only the next time really "make a statement" by wearing it over a turtleneck and tights. I remember looking at them and saying, "I can't come to school dressed like that! I'd look like a girl!  What would everyone say?" "Why not, Erin, you don't have any problem wearing your hair long, do you? And you aren't ashamed to wear your tights for gym class, right? And you're not afraid to show all of us how good you are at sewing? Anyway, it would look so neat. It will be so much fun!

We'll help you. Just wear your jumper" "it's not a jumper,  it's a tunic! "I exclaimed with conviction. "Just wear your tunic then,  on the next "make a statement" day (we had one once a month), and wear a  white turtleneck and a pair of your dance tights, white would look the best, under a pair of pants. You do have white tights, I presume?  Then we'll help you with your hair, makeup, and nails". "What do you mean hair, makeup, and nails? I gasped. "Well, we'd like to really do you up perfectly. I even have a pair of mary Jane that will fit you", said  Abby. "Get your mom to drive you in an hour early that day, and we'll fix you up in my dorm room. We'll get Carol, she's my 8th-grade mentor down the hall to put some curls in your hair with her curling iron, and just give you a little touch of color to your face with some lipstick and rouge, and I'll do your nails. I'm sure you have to wear makeup all  the time for your ballet recitals, don't you?" "Yes, but that's  theatrical makeup for stage lighting". "Come on, it will be so much  fun!" Well, once again to make a long story short, I did it, and amazingly everyone thought I was perfect!

That just goes to show you the freedom of expression that prevailed at the school.  And that uniqueness, and "freedom of expression" that I exhibited so proudly(after an initial reluctance) was picked up by mom. I even felt so good about my "day as a girl", that I left my pants and shoes in  Abby's dorm room from the morning "makeover", and when mom came to pick me up I never even thought about changing back. She looked at me with a  look of surprise, but at the same time, I sensed that it didn't bother her. All she said was "I see that you really "made a statement" today.  Who did your hair and makeup? And your nails are done!

That's pretty pink. They did a nice job. You look very pretty, dear!" So riding home that day, she asked me about the reactions I got to my new look.  "Everybody said I looked really cool, mom, and that I was really brave for going through with it". She said matter of factly "Well, how do you feel dressed like that? Wearing tights to dance in isn't really the same as wearing them with a jumper". I jumped in "mom, you know this is a  tunic!" She responded immediately "when you wear it with tights and patent leather mary janes, my darling Erin, it's a jumper. Really, sweetheart, I have no problem at all with what you've done.

I welcome it if that's really what you want to do. You have always been "special"  in many ways. You know I've never been one to worry about boy things versus girl things, right? Miss Tingley has remarked on many occasions regarding your gracefulness, and your "beauty". You have always been a  gentle, compassionate, sensitive child. I wouldn't have it any other way!" "mom, it doesn't feel at all strange to me, really. I love to sew and design and wear comfortable things. " Then I said something that just came out of my mouth. "You know mom, it really felt kind of neat when the girls were spending time this morning doing my hair and makeup. And after Abby was finished putting the polish on my nails, a strange feeling came over me. When they were done, looking in the mirror, I really thought that I looked nice.

Am I strange for  feeling that way?" Then I started to cry. Mom pulled over, stopped the car, and held me tightly in her arms. "Dearest Erin, I think you look absolutely adorable. And it is completely natural for you to feel that way. If you like, I'll show you how to do your own makeup, and I see nothing wrong with keeping your nails looking neat and polished. I'll teach you how to care for your nails tonight after dinner. If no one at school cares how you look, then I see no reason for us to worry about it. In fact, how about if we schedule an appointment to get your hair and nails done at the salon in town later this week?

Debby, the owner,  has done my hair for years, and if I explain that this is a "special treat" for you, I'm sure she'd be happy to concoct something extraordinary". Gee, mom, that would be neat! You don't mean that she would cut it, do you? I love it long." "No, Erin, I was speaking about trimming your ends and bangs, and then setting it full of curls. Nothing permanent, just to see how pretty your hair would look that way. You have always had beautiful hair! Then we could go home and dress you in the outfit you have on now and take some pictures for posterity". That evening I stayed "dressed", at my mom's request, and I learned all about nail care.

We decided that it would be wise to stick to clear polish most of the time, and occasionally a light pink for special occasions, but the bottom line was that from now on I took great care to see that my nails were always filed and polished. That Friday night, mom drove me to her beauty salon for my "appointment". We were the last appointment, so the salon was empty for the three of us, and Debby greeted us with enthusiasm. "Hello, Dana. Great to see you. And this must be Erin. I've heard so much about you, dear. I understand that you are quite a dancer. And, my, my, don't you have such beautiful long hair.

What are we going to do with it tonight? You don't want me to cut it  short now, do you?" "Oh no" I exclaimed, "I don't want my hair cut. Mom suggested that I could try out seeing what my hair looked like with curls in it". "Oh I see", Debby said with a sparkle in her eye, "are we going to give you a permanent tonight? Maybe a spiral perm would be appropriate, Dana, I believe Erin would look adorable with a head full of cascading curls!". I looked over to my mom quizzically. "No, no perm tonight", my mom said matter of factly. "I just want to treat Erin to a  beauty makeover, so that he gets to see how the "other side" gets pampered. Just like we discussed on the phone". I really couldn't figure out what mom's premise was in this experience for me, but it was like I  was captivated as I stood there and couldn't even move. Something in the back of my mind told me "why are you doing this", as another part of me welcomed it with open arms.

Debby took me over to the sink and washed my hair. It felt so good to have her do it was like a great massage for my scalp. Then it was over to the chair in front of the mirror. She first combed out my hair,  continuously remarking about how she had never seen a young boy with such beautiful hair. As she took out her scissors, I screamed "Please,  don't cut my hair!". Debby comforted me by putting both hands on my shoulders and said "Don't worry, sweety, I'm only going to trim your ends and your bangs, okay?

I wouldn't want to cut off any of these beautiful tresses. I understand exactly how you feel. When I was a girl,  I had waist-length hair until I turned sixteen. There was nothing it  seemed as important to me as my hair." After she quickly evened my hair with her scissors, she then started taking large sections of my hair,  putting a spray of some kind on the sections, and rolling the sections with large curlers. When she was finished as I looked in the mirror, my head looked quite funny. "There", she said, "when your hair dries it will be full of big, bouncy curls.

Let's put you under the dryer while I take care of your nails". As I sat under this big contraption that was shooting hot air all over my curler-filled head ( those curlers pulled on my hair tightly; that first time was very painful), I watched as Debby pulled over a table on wheels that contained the stuff that mom had recently taught me to use for my nails. "Well, Erin," my mom said, as she sat seemingly enjoying the whole experience, "now we get to see how a  real professional works on your nails". "Erin", Debby said with a hint of surprise. "it looks like your nails are already done. How long have you been doing your nails, dear?

Did your mom teach you? I must say,  they look very neat, very pretty. You don't mind me calling them pretty,  do you? I stammered out "No Mrs. Dexter, I like the way my nails look,  and mom taught me how to take care of them just last week. I don't mind if you think they are pretty. Thank you for noticing". "Why you are the most polite young gentleman I have ever come across" she blurted out.  "Let's see if I can't show you a few tricks to make them look even nicer, as long as you promise to come back every so often and let me have my way with you again". Mom jumped in with "Debby, I have a feeling that this night just might be the first of many.

Keep up the good work;  we're both enjoying this!". Debby stripped the clear polish off of my nails, worked on my cuticles, and filed the nails into nice rounded arches. Then she asked "Erin, do you always paint your nails with clear polish?" I replied, "yes Mrs. Dexter". "Well then, let's be bold tonight and go pink!", she exclaimed. "I have five different shades of pink for you to choose from. Or maybe you want me or your mom to choose?" "It's okay if you decide, Mrs. Dexter, you're the expert". "Well Erin, this is actually the first time that I have ever chosen a shade of nail polish to put on a young man's fingernails.

But I have to admit, I think that on your beautiful hands, it's very appropriate for you to have manicured nails. Let's try this medium pink. I think it's just right".  She then applied multiple coats of polish. "After a half hour of drying, she applied a special clear top coat. "That will protect your nails from chipping, dear. Don't they look so pretty? Let's take you back to my station and comb out your hair. And then I'll work on your face a  little. "You mean my mom told you to put makeup on me too?" I uttered quite disoriented. "Yes, dear, she requested the whole "makeover". She thought that you deserved the complete package tonight.

You can decide how far we go with your makeup, but she thought that it would be good if you saw how I do your face, so that as you get older, and the time comes for you to do it yourself, you know". "Oh yes, Mrs. Dexter, for dance productions we need to do our faces for presence on stage, under the lights" I said. "This will be good training". "Well, dear, what I'm going to do is a little bit more subtle than stage makeup more like everyday "girl" makeup, but I'm sure it will apply".

She proceeded to start with a light foundation, and her brushwork was that of a fine artist on a virgin canvas. It tickled me, I was swept away, and as she moved on to my eyes, and then to my lips, I witnessed a remarkable transformation before me in the mirror. I believe that she did too, as did my mother. Debby quickly took the curlers out of my hair and brushed my hair. She used a curling iron for a few touch-ups, and to curl my bangs.

As I looked up, my mom rose from the chair and stood rather still, taking in my "new look" with the same bewilderment that I was experiencing. I think I even saw a few tears escaping down her cheek. "I  don't know what to say" she gasped. "You look exquisite, Erin. Debby has  done a magnificent job!" "I know exactly what to say" Debby chimed in proudly "Erin, you look absolutely adorable. I know that this is just a one-time "special treat" for you and your mom, but I must say that between your natural good looks, how we've done your face, and your most beautiful hair, that you are prettier than most every little girl that has come through the doors of this establishment. I hope that comment doesn't embarrass you, but I just can't help telling you that.

You are just so strikingly beautiful!". Well, it did and yet it didn't. I didn't know why I was feeling that way then, although I do now, after I  thanked Debby sincerely, and mom paid her, adding that we'd be back again soon, we both left the salon walking on cloud nine. Mom knew that  I was happy and I sensed that mom was somehow content with what she had done. When we reached home, mom had me change into my "jumper" and tights and spent at least half an hour taking pictures with her camera. She and I still have those pictures.

This "beautiful awakening"  was just the beginning of a period of "exploration for me and mom. She enjoyed it, I was captivated by it, and there wasn't anyone telling us that it wasn't "proper". Sure I got strange looks from Miss Tingly the next day in ballet class. The only remnant of my "makeover" was my nails, but that was plenty to elicit comments from all. Did I care?  Strangely no. It was almost as if my pink nails became my badge of courage. I made sure that my nails were pink for every class after that. Instead of high school, I home-schooled with my mom.