Glitter | Teen Ink


October 27, 2014
By Allison White BRONZE, Defiance, Ohio
Allison White BRONZE, Defiance, Ohio
4 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Costume, check. Makeup, check. Glitter, heck yes. Okay, nerves just calm down. It’ll be great. We’re going to be amazing. We’re going to be the best. Don’t let your team down. This is your last year with them. Don’t mess it up. This is what I told myself right before the biggest dance performance so far. Everyone has a passion and mine was dancing. Anywhere and everywhere, I danced. In seventh grade when I found out that I could join our school’s dance team, I was ecstatic. I tried out and performed on the dance team ever since. Back to the beginning, the day in particular I told myself to calm down my team, and I were at our first competition.
Our team captain, Jordyn, competed before, but the rest of us were newbies to this. We were all a big bundle of nerves. We traveled for almost two hours to a high school in southern Indiana. The drive wasn’t too bad considering the whole time we sang at the top of our lungs and took a million selfies. When we arrived and walked in, a girl breezed up to us. “Nice shoes, I really like them. Where’d you get them?” she asked.
“Umm, well, we don’t really know. Our coaches surprised us with them,” Rayana, one of my best friends, replied.  We received compliments all day long about our shoes. They were a bright, blinding red with sequins and glitter all over them. It reminded me of a second grader taking a marker and some glitter, scribbling around and poof! there were our shoes. Once we checked in, we went to our room to get ready. The school was ginormous and so was the room.

The room we transformed in was the Spanish room, and there were Día de Muertos masks hanging up everywhere. We instantly moved the desks around into makeshift hair and makeup stations. After awhile, we walked around scouting other teams out. We saw people in hip hop outfits complete with Harlem pants, crop tops, and high top shoes. Then there were lyrical dancers with long dresses and buns in their hair. The coolest ones were the themed outfits. One team was all dressed as the Joker from Batman. Two other girls were dressed in red and black silky costumes like the queen of hearts from Alice in Wonderland. I hated our costumes. We had to wear a leotard that was black, white, and red with sparkles. Our leotard wasn’t comfortable at all. They were itchy and constricting, and they cut into our arms. The outfit was completed with stretchy black pants that showed everything. They showed any and all curves, bumps, rolls, and dirt. After exploring around, we went to our room to get ready.

I should have prepared myself better. As my coach was doing my over the top stage makeup complete with glitter, heavy eyeliner, and lipstick, I confessed to her that I was exceedingly nervous. “You will do great. You’ve practiced this a million times, so just act like it’s just another performance at a basketball game,” Coach Ashley Schinker, or just Schinker as we liked to call her, reassured me. I knew it was just a performance; however, I was still jittery and nervous. It is still going to be like the last time. I can really prove myself to the team. I’m not going to be here next year. All right, Allie, you can do it. Calm down. After loading on about ten pounds of makeup and using two whole containers of glitter, we were ready.

We stretched in a warm-up hallway where about three or four other teams were crammed before they performed. The camaraderie between every team there was prodigious. Even though we were there to win, everyone danced for themselves, for their passion. We all congratulated the other teams and one another and said good luck. The final minutes leading up, we practiced in a gym, and I felt pretty good. We had a team bonding circle and then put on our dance faces. Lights. Camera. Music. Audience. Goosebumps ran up and down my spine. I was shaking and could feel my face go ten shades whiter than usual.

We strutted confidently onto the floor. I felt like crying. I felt proud about how far we had come to get to that moment. Now all I could do was dance and bring it. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Calm down, heart. Nerves, really? You have to bother me now. Okay, smile better and jump higher. The beginning to the song, “Are You Ready for This?” blared through the speakers. Hit, hit, move, turn, and down. I heard the song change to AC/DC “Back in Black,” and I jammed. Oh crap, no don’t look the people in the face. No, nerves, stop. Hold on, it’s almost over. Our song selection was a mash up of different rock songs. After “Back in Black,” it was “Dragula” by Rob Zombie. Lastly, we ended our performance with “I Don’t Wanna Stop” by Ozzy Osborne. Once I heard Ozzy’s voice say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m making my own decisions!” I smiled. It was almost over, but then suddenly I felt sick. No, we are almost done! Thump-thump. Thump-thump. The most mortifying circumstance happened. I threw up all over the floor! Luckily, the dance was basically over, so no one stepped in it. The last thirty seconds of the dance, I cried, and my face felt like a hot iron. I was embarrassed. After I ran off humiliated, a guy ran out and wiped it up. I just stood on the sidelines, crying silently. 

Really? What was that? Everyone is going to laugh. I’m humiliated.  My coaches and teammates consolidated me. I saw my parents across the gym and went to them. I started crying even harder. “What’s the matter?” my mom asked, “You did great! I’m so proud of you.” I told her what happened, and she had no idea. I found out that no one knew I had thrown up. It wasn’t enough for people to see, and I felt relieved but not that much better. We went home that night with a third place win, and we felt like we were unassailable.

In the following weeks, I was nervous and almost became sick during simple performances at basketball games. I was scared that it would happen again, and people would notice and make fun of me. One Friday night before a basketball game, I told my teammates that I was really nervous and wasn’t sure if I could perform. They all came together and gave me a big compassionate hug. Rikki reassuringly told me, “You’ll be fine. You’re amazing.”

“You’re one of the best dancers on the team,” Jordyn said, “and you can do it. It’s just people at school.” The best advice and the person who made me feel most confident was Kylie. “We’re here for you no matter what. We will be there to help you if you need it. We are a team and a family. We can do this!” Kylie triumphantly cried. They really helped me. They made me remember that I loved dance and all the glitter that comes with it. I have to do this. For them. For me. For my passion. That night, I danced better than I ever had.

Everyone has a passion. Dancers feel the music; football players it’s all about the Friday night-lights, and it’s in volleyball when the players hit a spike. Everyone has a moment of vulnerability, of insecurity, or of ambiguity. If the passion is worth more, then go after it. Don’t hold anything back. According to Merce Cunningham, “You have to love dancing to stick to it. It gives you nothing back, no manuscripts to store away, no paintings to show on walls and maybe hang in museums, no poems to be printed and sold, nothing but that single fleeting moment when you feel alive.” I take one lesson away from this quote. The most important lesson to me is the moment and to give the dance, glitter, and my moment up would be impossible.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.