The First Cut

Nothing exotic or kinky, or even remotely dramatic. I just cut myself today.

Wearing my just arrived Darcos from Buenos Aires, I slashed myself.

I bled, it stung, and I did not know I had cut myself.

It was probably during the volley of boleo, gancho, boleo that my teacher likes to exercise me with that I cut myself.

Concentrating so hard on getting it done seemingly effortlessly and in tune to the rhythm of the tango beat, I did not feel it, and found the bleeding gash well after it had happened.

Nothing deep or requiring hospital care. Just a little over an inch of a thin gash, giving credence to my theory that it was the fine stiletto heel that did this. The amazing stiletto heel that goes from blood red to black in shimmering gradation.

The culprit. Lazos 2, it is called, and it made the first cut on this budding tango addict. As my teacher put it, all part of being a dancer. After all these years of frustration and dreams, I guess I can say I am a dancer. And I had to get my first cut to be called one.

Let the dance begin...