[Hunting is to Texans as dancing is to me.]
My roommate’s boyfriend and I both experienced something new during a weekend he came up to visit. He grew up in camouflage while I grew up in leotards and tights.
I saw pictures of him blending into the background and pictures of him posing with a deer that was…no longer with us…and some other gruesome ones that made me squirm. I’ve heard of hunting, obviously, but I’ve never seen pictures of how–intense–it is. He then points (no pun intended) out something unfamiliar to him, my poster of pointe shoes.
“You’ve never seen those before?”
“No, they’re for dancing though, right?”
I then proceeded to haul out my dead pointe shoes and explain how you stand on your toes in the box and that it’s pretty uncomfortable.
It’s crazy to me that he has never seen pointe shoes and I’m sure it’s just as crazy to him that I don’t have deer heads mounted on my wall. So I think we’ll both stick to what we do best, him scoping deer and me tying up the ribbons on my pointe shoes and keeping on dancing.