I am shaped funny. It’s not that I have bad body image or anything else like that. I just have a funnily shaped body. When I sit down I am extraordinarily tall. Taller than most men who are over six foot. I’m only 5’8”. I have a ridiculously long torso. This causes many problems. Like getting yelled at while watching a ballet because some catty woman in fur thought I was sitting on my heels. “Do you have any idea how much I paid for these tickets!” Probably not as much as you did for the tacky dead animal you’re wearing. And, P.S. I can’t shrink!
There are lots of problems with being a tall dancer with short legs. A Rockette I will never be. But the worst part is getting leotards that fit me. Either I have to buy the right size and it’s too short, so it’s pulling at my crotch and leaving red ditches in my shoulders. Or I buy a size up and it’s way too loose, and I look like a frump with no boob support. It’s also a problem with stock costumes at theatres. My waist size and torso length do not match. Bodices end at my ribs. It’s an issue.
When I was in high school, every time my mother took me to New York City we would visit all four Capezio locations in search of the one leotard in Manhattan that had been improperly sewn to have super length. Sometimes we won. Sometimes I ended up with a leotard so short it looked like my nips might pop out at any moment. But my sweet mother soldiered on, searching for the elusive combination of length and width that was perfect for me. Now she has passed the baton on to costume designers and wardrobe mistresses. Sorry, guys. I was born this way.