We have to wear these red matching jumpsuits onesies for the dance competition walk-in. They look weird for a day outfit, but I don't think I deserve particularly nice things. But people seem to like me. They cheer for me, but I don't know why. Good news though. Brady didn't snitch and I didn't have any breakfast. I normally don't eat before competitions though. I know it'll get trickier. I feel so sick taking my Fluoxetine and Venlafaxine.
It's supposed to help me. I want to say I'm better without it, but I have a panic attack the one time I don't. It still helps me to some extent. Just not for its intended purpose. Or does it help at all? I did have that anxiety attack last week with Fluoxetine and Venlafaxine. But it was worn off... ugh! Medicine is confusing.
It doesn't help that I'm the lead for the group dance. So much pressure. Why do I have to be the lead for such a sensitive topic? I'm so nervous. But I can't show or tell. I'm very lucky that Brady or Pressley didn't tell anybody when I showed visible nervousness and dread last night over a movie.
You're gonna fail the dance. Your arms and feet are too ugly. Nobody will be listening to the message. They'll be looking at your fat and whorish body. And the few that do will be so offended by your message that you will be cut for the team.
I also have to prove to Ms. Abby that Brady doesn't always need to be the center of the group dance. That's just as scary as trying to convey the right message. But I can't dwell on it for too long. I need to put on my makeup for the group dance and then watch GiaNina, Hannah, and Brady perform from the sidelines.
We all wear these unicorn headbands to support Hannah. Hannah's the underdog, not going to lie. But I know she's going to win or at least get second to Brady. Suddenly, I hear GiaNina going off on how Ms. Abby's words and opinions don't matter. She must think she is crazy. If you are a part of her competition team, her words, and opinions matter.
Now she is contradicting her own words, saying how much she loves the dance. Good thing Ms. Abby isn't here yet. But Ms. Gianna is. Now her mom is backing her up, saying that she didn't not like the dance, she just didn't like sassy jazz. What she is saying just seems so fake. Because instead of sassy jazz, it has now turned into cheesy jazz. I can't stand to listen to the conversation. GiaNina isn't perfect. She's talented and sweet, but nobody's not perfect. I'm not perfect.
Ms. Abby arrives in some sparkly denim getup by the time Hannah is in her costume. It's pink and sparkly. GiaNina has her costume on and so does Brady but I don't notice them at first.
"Soloists," Ms. Abby begins, making us pay attention to her, "I know you're putting your final touches in, but come on up here."
Brady, GiaNina, and Hannah went to Ms. Abby. They look nervous. At least they get to look nervous and their parents don't worry if they're going to have an anxiety attack.
"Hannah, you need to dance like it's the last time you'll ever dance. Because it just might be," Ms. Abby threatens Hannah. Hannah is too friendly and skilled to throw to the wind. I don't want her to go.
"GiaNina," Ms. Abby starts, speaking her name in an Italian accent, "You have a sassy jazz dance. So this should be easy-peasy for you. Have the same style and the same sass and the same attitude you had in a trio as the devil right now. So that's what we need to see again. All right?"
"I love my dance, and I feel that it also fits my personality well and all the tricks and things that are in my dance," GiaNina states.
The moms seem pissed at GiaNina. This is obvious coaching from her mother. I really don't care, as well as she performs adequately, but just be honest. You'll get in more trouble if you lie than if you say, "Well, this isn't my forte, but I'll try my best to execute it perfectly."
But of course, it now becomes my problem because Mom calls BS on what GiaNina said.
"Ok, Joanne, seriously?" Mom asks GiaNina's mom, who, as I said before, obviously coached GiaNina.
Joanne, feeling defeated, instructs GiaNina to tell Ms. Abby how she really felt about the dance. Ms. Abby seems shocked.
"That is how I feel," GiaNina tells her mom, having that sugary, cutesy, fake voice attached to her statement.
"Okay. That's not how you've been feeling all week," GiaNina's mom finally admits, and then all hell breaks loose.
"What? What are you talking about?" Ms. Abby asks with her teeth clenched as the other kids that are not soloists, including me, are ushered to a corner to warm up.
"That's the exact opposite of the entire conversation of the week and this morning," Mom calls out.
"You actually called her dance 'cheesy jazz.'" Pressley's mom shouts to GiaNina's mom. Abby must be pissed.
"Yeah, she is not used to do- Gia does- Yeah," GiaNina's mom is stammering to defend herself and GiaNina and utterly failing to do so.
"GiaNina, I don't appreciate some 13-year-old kid talking about my choreography and Ms. Gianna's. I don't want a brat on my team. I do not raise brats!" Ms. Abby screams, all hell really breaking loose now.
"And Gia's not a brat so..." GiaNina's mom tries to defend, but it is pointless at this point.
"She just said before, she actually doesn't care about Abby's opinions or her words. That came out of her mouth," Pressley's mom declares.
Oh no. By now, none of the kids are warming up. We are all very tuned into this argument. This is about to go down.
GiaNina's crying and Brady's trying to comfort her. Brady's really like the big brother to all of us, or at least tries to be. I don't think the other kids notice. It's hard to comfort pre-teens, especially in a stressful environment.
"You guys have been ripping apart my mom all morning," GiaNina states, trying to compose herself, but obviously failing.
"Save your tears for the pillow, kid. Wake up. This is real life. And you are not gonna talk about me behind my back or her," Ms. Abby yells, defending Ms. Gianna as well, who's just nonchalantly sitting in a corner with a laptop, very amused.
"We have raised winners. Winner after winner after winner after winner. And a child who dances for me with my name on your back is gonna talk that way about anything at the studio? No. No way." I wish GiaNina had a pillow she could just pull out.
Ms. Abby immediately calls us to go to the side of the stage because their solos are soon. I don't understand how GiaNina's makeup isn't smudged in any way, shape, or form. That's because she has all the natural beauty. GiaNina is pretty. You, Lilliana are ugly and fat.
Now GiaNina is crying for the second time, Ms. Abby is yelling at her. Oh my God. I can't run. I can't run. Shifting closer to Pressley, I see this whole thing unfold. Ms. Abby is yelling at her because she's crying over a dance when kids can't afford to take a dance class. Children who are dying of cancer. Kids that don't have legs to dance. By now GiaNina's mom is getting involved. And I think the final straw is when just because GiaNina is crying, Ms. Abby claims she has issues.
I want to yell at Ms. Abby so bad. Tell her that she is valid to express her emotions. She's not saying she isn't grateful, she's just nervous and isn't confident in the dance and just needs some encouraging words. I'm the one that has issues, not GiaNina. She is perfect, isn't she? She is perfect. Ms. Abby shouldn't be taking her own problems out on GiaNina.
Ms. Abby wheels away to the audience, and we all try to calm down GiaNina. She stops crying, but she's definitely stressed and that's not good. I hope they all do well. They all need to do well.
We all play with the cameramen a bit, getting right in front of the camera and making funny faces. It helps ease GiaNina's nerves. But she's still nervous and afraid when we are called to the side stages.
Hannah's called first after Brady, dancing to the song "So Perfect" by Joanna Pacitti. She does good. So, so good. She has a smile on her face the entire time and has great fluidity with her moves. They don't stop suddenly and resume. She tells a story. She seems very content.
When it was almost GiaNina's time to go up, she's still almost crying. But she's a performer. Performers have a smile on their faces no matter how they are feeling. Because no one cares about the person performing the dance. They care about the dance.
She doesn't seem ready to perform. But she's perfect. She has a sassy smile on her face walking out. But as she dances to "Got It All' by Clarity Music, her facial expressions overall are subpar and unconvincing. She messes up the steps at one point and her steps are very choppy. She's in big trouble.
She's sobbing when she got off the stage. The girls topple her and I am forced to stand by the side, unable to fit in. We watch Brady go on, and I know this dance means so much to him. And he did it with perfection. The pointed feet, the emotions, all just great.
We're still worried about GiaNina, however. She didn't do great, and Ms. Abby won't be happy. But when we walk into the dressing room to prepare for the group number, Ms. Abby seems pleased. She's whooping and smiling. Something is definitely up.
"Hannah, I thought you were beautiful on stage. GiaNina, you kinda dropped your heel on all of the turns. I think maybe if you worried a little bit more on the technique and leave the choreography and style to us, that would be fine," Ms. Abby tells GiaNina, who is probably never going to be forgiven.
The group routine is next. This is so important for the future of the ALDC. Not just my future, but the whole team's future as well. Everything has to be perfect. The moms have to be prepared for the backlash. So do we. The media is very unforgiving of children. I'm the lead. I play with the hair tie on my wrist.
"Lilly, there's a lot at stake for the Abby Lee Dance Company, for me personally as well as you," Ms. Abby reminds me, pinching my stomach quickly as we exit the room.
I stand close to Hannah. I'm terrified. It's now or never. Am I going to pull this off? You're going to fail and offend everyone watching. I fan my face, my foot shaking.
People in the audience look offended. Oh, God. I have to keep dancing and performing. I had to carry this whole number. We form a line as the siren stops. All of my friends dance around me in unison. I'm acting distraught. But it wasn't acting. Now was the time to express my feelings about whether to follow what the urges are telling me or seek help.
We are performing perfectly. Not a single timing issue. Not a single facial expression missed. Not a single sickled foot. Everything is going great. I'm being thrown around by the two sides. It's intentional that I was meshing with the good side more. Working with them instead of the navy side where they threw me around. The props work fine. At the end of the dance, it's unclear which side I choose. But the sign that says "THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS" is in front of the other sign.
But I think my mind has chosen the opposite for me. I don't want to go down the side of not eating. But it is what will make me pretty and more graceful. I'm choosing the wrong choice. But it doesn't feel wrong. So maybe it's the right choice.
The audience is cheering. Maybe they perceive the dance well. Not everybody's cheering, so it's clear we offended some people. We all collapse in a pile backstage, tears forming in our eyes. We did it. I think, for once, we nailed it. But that's not my decision.
Then comes the award ceremony. I'm at the end, next to GiaNina. I'm nervous about the solos. I want Hannah to do well. She's the underdog. But we need everybody to do well. GiaNina already knows she didn't win. But I hope she'll place second or third.
"Our teen soloists, in fourth place, 'Rich Girl.' Miss GiaNina," the announcer calls out. I don't have much to say except oof. Ms. Abby won't be happy. Or maybe she will.
"In third place, 'Mambo Italiano.' Miss Delaney," the announcer says through the microphone. I'm nervous that Hannah didn't place at this point.
"In second place, 'The Last Unicorn.' Miss Hannah," the announcer announces. This is a huge step for Hannah, who is elated. Hannah probably has proved herself this week.
"And in first place, 'PTSD.' Mr. Brady," the announcer says. Yeah, that was kind of expected. But that dance means so much to him. So I'm very happy for him.
We don't have a lot of time for congratulations, however. We have to move into the group dances, junior small division. My stomach has so many butterflies as my thoughts are mocking me. Loser Lilliana. Loser Lilliana. It's not an urge. My own thoughts are being rude because I don't know if we won yet. But they get to me. We're probably disqualified.
"In third place, 'Revolting Children' from InterActive Academy," the announcer said through the mic. It wasn't us. But maybe we didn't place at all.
"In second place, we have... 'At Your Feet' also from InterActive Academy," the announcer calls out. Ok, even if we had gotten called for second, I think Ms. Abby will be happy if we place at all.
"And your highest scoring junior small group, 'Thoughts and Prayers!' from the Abby Lee Dance Company!" the announcer calls out. We won.
I proved myself. The people got our message. Ms. Abby's elated. I'm elated. We all are on cloud nine. This was amazing.
We all run into the dressing room, giddy and excited. Mom tells me we also got first overall for the entire competition. This is amazing. Ms. Abby's so excited, whooping loud and cheering. All of my fears lift away. It's fun to see Ms. Abby so happy. We all run up to her and hug her.
"Oh, man, the group was so clean and so good, and we made a statement. And Lilly, you sold it. You had an outstanding performance," Ms. Abby says. They all clap for me.
"Some quick info while the cameras are off. Brady, your solo got a Technique Award, and Hannah, you got a Fluidity Award, so great job, kiddos!" Ms. Abby quickly informs us before the cameras are rolling again.
"Alright, now let me get to the solos. What happened today?" Ms. Abby asks, our elated mood crashing.
"I'm sorry that I got fourth. I know that I can do better," GiaNina mumbles before sighing and continuing, her voice shaky, tears welling up, "And I just wanted to apologize because I didn't mean to tell you that I didn't like the solo, I didn't like your choreography. That's not what I said. My words were twisted, and I'm so sorry that happened, but I know that next time, I will come out on top."
So her words were twisted. See, that makes more sense to me than whatever nonsense was said before. GiaNina isn't like that. But I believed it at first because moms are always right. But maybe they just don't like GiaNina.
"You are definitely in the doghouse. If you're gonna be nasty or feisty or a brat, do it on stage, when it counts, when you're playing a part. Not in real life. I will not have it, GiaNina. Will not have it. And it's gonna come back to haunt you," Ms. Abby barks at GiaNina.
I then realize that GiaNina is maybe going to be cut from the team. Oh. My. God. GiaNina is definitely going to be cut from the team.
"I explained that not everybody was gonna stay on this team. And I had my thoughts on who was going to go first. It certainly wasn't you. But now it's a different story. You are on thin ice, GiaNina," Ms. Abby finishes.
This week is probably the most stressful week I've ever endured. I have an inkling that each week is going to get more stressful. GiaNina's in tears as we peel off our makeup. Ms. Abby leaves to go do something. Probably obtain the bus. We have an hour to leave or else we are going to be locked out.
I'm scattered. I try to comfort GiaNina while I am trying to comfort myself. But Ms. Abby keeps yelling at her to save the tears for the pillow and yelling at us for comforting her. The moms are getting involved, and Sarah and I start crying because we are exhausted and overloaded, and then she starts yelling at us for crying. And then our moms are trying to get us out of there before something bad happens, which makes the other kids worry about how panicked our mothers are about us and about GiaNina, which makes us nearly miss the bus, and it's just a mess. But hey, we won.
Savannah and I sleep together at the very back of the bus, right next to our moms. Or I attempt to sleep. My stomach is aching. I haven't eaten all day. Even though Ms. Abby didn't fat-shame me as much this week, I still feel a compulsion to not eat to please Ms. Abby and the urges.
Why did you cry Lilliana? You made everybody worry about you. No attention should be on you. Ever. I don't know how you won. But you didn't eat today. So good girl, Lilliana. You will please Ms. Abby. You will be skinny and beautiful.
I want to say no, but they have too much power. Maybe if I write down how much I eat day-by-day in my thoughts, no, urges journal, I would please them. And I can keep track of how much I eat for myself. I don't want to do this. But I don't feel like I have control anymore. I don't have control over my own body. Not having control is a horrifying idea to me. I have to regain control of myself.
When we get home, I knock out. But I hear a loud commotion across the hall before I manage to fall asleep. Man, the neighbors don't seem to be happy. But I could care less. I have to fall asleep. I haven't gotten a good night's sleep in ages. And I need sleep. But I know tonight will be anything but nice.
~~~~~