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I was so excited to wear the outfit Sabrina put together for me, I could hardly sleep on Monday night. I even did my very first ever home facial over the weekend. Melody highly recommends professional facials to keep the skin in good condition and for relaxation. She gets them a few times per month and if I were a highly paid model traveling around Europe, I probably would too. I can’t afford the spa, but she showed us how to do them at home. Steam, scrub, mask and moisturize. My skin never felt so refreshed.
After a busy morning at work, I go to lunch. Six voicemail messages await when I get back, one of which includes profanity. I’ve got five claims and, as usual, more work than I could possibly do in a day, but I exercise superhuman ability to keep it from upsetting me. The classes cost me a lot of money I really can’t afford, but Chloe Dillon is good for me. I’m doing the same old terrible job, but somehow, I feel different doing it.
We’re on our last break and Sarah is telling me that they finalized their honeymoon plans. I feel nothing but excitement for her and it’s not just for show.
“He convinced me that I couldn’t go another year of my life without seeing Paris, so Europe it is. Italy, France, England and Amsterdam.”
“It sounds amazing.”
“I can’t wait,” she replies excitedly. “Hey, you’re wearing makeup, and I’ve never seen you wear your hair that way. What’s going on?”
I must really look like absolute crap every other day because I got so many, “You look so pretty today,” comments. Even Angela gave me the side-eye. Does that mean I looked ugly yesterday? I know they don’t mean it that way, but that’s basically how it comes across when you really think about it. I had to get up about twenty minutes earlier, but I was surprised at how little time it actually took. The most basic application Melody taught us went a really long way, and it was quick and easy to pull my hair into a high, sleek pony-tail instead of a stale ponytail at the nape of my neck. Incidentally, ponytails are not just for high school cheerleaders. According to Melody, there never has to be a day where it looks like you gave up on your hair because there is always something fun and basic that can be done with just a little bit of effort. I’m sure all of this valuable information was lurking within the pages of magazines I’ve read over the years that I’d carefully earmark then forget all about it until I’m staring at my boring hair yet again after I’ve already tossed the magazine in the trash.
“Doing something with my hair and putting on a little make up in the morning puts a little pep in my step, so I’ve been trying to make a habit out of it.”
“But what brought this on?” Sarah persists.
“In addition to personal growth, I also signed up for acting and modeling sessions at Chloe Dillon. I already finished the acting and now its fashion and wardrobe week.” I blurt it out in one breath. I already know she doesn’t think highly of modeling schools but I’m feeling too good to keep it a secret.
“Acting and Modeling? I never knew you were interested in that,” she says with surprise in her voice.
“Yeah, well, me either. I’m having fun with modeling, but I really think acting is something I could be passionate about.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about it before?”
“I was embarrassed. You said it was silly.”
She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “You never did tell me how much you paid for these classes.”
“Well, it’s not exactly cheap. Why?”
“Well, you know those modeling and acting schools are scams right? I mean, they charge a lot of money for something you absolutely don’t need to become a model or an actor. Did they promise you fame and fortune?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head emphatically. “They only said it is possible, but that wasn’t even on my radar when I signed up. I felt the same way you do when I first heard about it, but I was struggling so much with everything going on, I just went for it.”
“I don’t know, Lexi. I’ve heard horror stories about those places. And it’s not like acting is something that just anyone can do.”
“I know, but doing monologues was kind of a game changer for me. I lost myself in the moment. I got positive feedback from an actual casting director. It was ...surreal...” I can’t wipe the smile off my face, but Sarah doesn’t look convinced.
She shakes her head, and changes tactics. “I used to be a serious ballet dancer,” she says.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I started taking ballet when I was twelve. It’s considered late for anyone who ever expects to make it as a professional dancer, but I progressed really fast and made up for lost time. I danced at least three to four hours a day all through high school and did summer intensives every year. It was my life.”
“Wasn’t that really expensive?” Sarah grew up dirt poor and comes from a really large family.
“Very. My mom scraped together every last dime she had to keep me in it and I got scholarships, which helped. The only thing I ever bought new was tights and pointe shoes. I relied on hand me-downs for everything else, and always wore my pointe shoes longer than I should have because they were so expensive.”
“En pointe. That’s pretty impressive.”
“Yeah and painful,” she says, smiling. “But I loved it. During my senior year in high school, I started auditioning for dance companies to try to get a job professionally. I went to one really huge Grand Prix competition where they have scouts from companies all over the country and I didn’t place or get a call back, so I quit.”
“Aren’t there other ways of getting into a company?”
Sarah continues, “Well, yes, but auditioning is really expensive because you submit tapes all over to get an invite. But you have to pay your own way to actually go audition. In a big family like that, when money is tight, to have that big of a focus on one child creates a lot of bitterness among your siblings. I didn’t want to waste any more money that could be going towards the other kids, so I decided that college was the safer bet. It seemed like such an impossible dream that when I didn’t get picked up by a company at Grand Prix, I figured it wasn’t meant to be.” I detect a wistful flicker in her eyes, but only for half of a second. “My teacher always told me my boobs were too big for ballet anyway,” she says with a laugh.
“How could I not know this about you? I know you go to Nutcracker every year and that you used to take classes, but I never knew you were that good.”
“I guess I don’t like to talk about that part of it because I was one of the ones who didn’t make it. I didn’t have the guts to keep trying for my dream, but the flip side of it is that having talent isn’t always enough. The performing arts is really cut throat and highly competitive. I was only eighteen and I was good, but I had to be realistic. I went to college. I started a career. I’ll be transitioning into a new career that I really care about. Anyway, the point is, I think it’s great you’re having fun with this, but I don’t want you to be taken advantage of. I know you don’t like being a claims adjuster, but you still haven’t applied for promotions or looked for anything else.”
I was a Political Science major worried sick about being stuck doing retail forever. I tripped and fell into the insurance industry, joining the otherwise talentless masses relegated to stale cubicle farms filled with days that blend undifferentiated one into the next because this is real life. This is what people do. But I don’t want to do that anymore. I picture my supervisor’s tired, defeated face and I know I don’t want that for myself. I shake my head defiantly, because we’ve already discussed that many times.
“I can’t be a supervisor.”
“There are lots of great careers out there you can explore.”
I don’t think she means anything by it, but I’m deeply disappointed that she won’t share my enthusiasm. She is passionate about becoming a therapist, why can’t I be passionate about acting? It’s the first thing since gymnastics that has truly stirred me in some way.
“You’re right,” I say quietly. “Maybe it is time for me to pursue a different career path that will make me happier.”
That’s what I said, and I meant it because it would be really nice to feel something other than disdain for my job, but her refusal to be supportive and acknowledge acting as something I could actually use to enrich my life is frustrating.
