Body check: 11/06

- Boobs: No change, still pretty flat
- Period: Not here! Not here! Never coming!
- Voice: Getting deeper (I now sound like a pre-pubescent emo boy instead of a five year old girl)
- Figure: No curves, little tummy pudge, though (should probably cut down on the junk food)
- Hair: I got a shorter haircut so I'd look good today and I do
- Facial hair: No...
Notes: I am now 15 and this will be my last entry for a while... or at least until I start T (only 2 years to go)

I flicked back through my old journal. A lot of the entries were exactly the same but some were more specific - I would include accurate measurements of my bust and hips; those were the days when my anxiety was the worst. I liked measuring my chest and seeing it hadn't gotten any bigger or that my hips hadn't gotten any wider. I liked doing it because I could see myself as a boy because, even if my body was biologically against me, the measurements would tell me that I am a boy.
I thought about including a new entry. I readied my pen to start a new date. I hadn't done this in so long because I guess I was happy with myself so I didn't feel the need to. I was too obsessed and that was bad for me... but I wanted to go back to then all over again. I wanted to obsess over something. I wanted to put my mind onto something else other than Phil and that stupid dance school! My pen shook as it touched the edges of the paper. My old routine flooded back into me all over again, a routine I hadn't thought about in a long time. I threw my pen into the corner of the room in frustration and my book followed shortly after. I brought my knees up to my chest and just cradled myself. Thinking that I didn't need that book anymore. I didn't need anything to keep track, I didn't need a book to remind myself that everything but my body was changing. My entire life was a downward spiral and it's ironic that the only thing that stays constant is the body I so want to change. My life is a battle of good and bad. Good things come and get tainted by the world - Phil, my mum. When would it end? Would PJ and Chris get tainted too? Would they be better off without me? Is it me? Am I the one who turns everything around me rotten? If I look back at everything wrong in my life it all leads back to me. I'm the centre of all of this and that may sound selfish but all the evidence was pointing that way: Jessica became a bitch when I came out, I forced Phil away from Alfie and now he wants nothing to do with me, my mum came back and she only seems to hate me.

I wiped away a tear as there was a knock at the door. 
"Come in," my voice sounded weak and strained. 
"It's only me," my dad said as he opened the door and peaked his head through. "You have dance today, don't you?"
I nodded. I still hadn't told him about why I was going today and he still hadn't asked. A part of me thought maybe he already knew the reason but another part of me, the logical side,  knew he would've confronted me if that were the case.
"I'll drive you."
"Thanks," I managed to get out.
I hadn't realised how much I had been crying, how weak I had been, until I was facing my dad. Suddenly my throat was sore and wrecked whilst my eyes were aching and heavy. I could feel the tears drying up on my cheeks. 
"Are you okay?" He asked me concerned but his eyes were scanning around the room, he seemed kind of unsure.
"Fine." I put on my best fake smile and he still seemed a little wary but he reluctantly nodded his head.
"Okay, be ready in ten." He was gone after that. 
I lifted myself up from the bed, feeling my limbs weaken as I made it to my feet but I stayed steady. I shoved my ballet costume into a random gym bag and just stood in the room. I can't tell you how long I stayed there for, time became meaningless as it past me. I stared at the book near the wall, laying open on some random page. I reread the page over and over until I was sure the words would forever be engraved in my head. The words were meant nothing to me now but at some point they meant everything. 

I looked at my phone one last time, wondering if I had a message from Phil, but the phone stayed blank of text notifications. PJ and Chris had talked to me about it at school today and wished me luck in the group chat an hour ago. I appreciated it, I was really lucky to have them, but it wasn't Phil who had messaged me and it made my heart sink.  We hadn't spoken since that day and I should hate him but I don't. I should really hate him but I can't seem to make my heart stop beating the way it does when I think of him. It makes my brain ache. I wish it was easy to stop loving someone but, once the love is there, it clings to your heart with a fierce grip.  
A couple minutes rolled by and it was obvious I wasn't going to get any word from Phil. He wasn't going to stop me and I convinced myself that that was okay. This was what I wanted to do and I was doing it for me. It was about time I got away. This could start up so much for me, it could mean so much for my future... so why did I feel like I was lying to myself? I put my bag on my back before I could stop myself and rushed down the stairs.
"Ready when you are," I told my dad.
Mum had a smug smile on her face as she read her magazine. She knew what today was and, in her eyes, she'd won. Maybe she'd won in my eyes too. I didn't want to admit that but I knew that this would benefit her in a number of ways. She wouldn't have told me about the scholarship if she wouldn't benefit from it.

The car started up and the journey was just the same as it had been the last time; silent. Neither of us spoke as the radio blared some songs that were overplayed enough already. I thought about my routine in my head over and over. I wondered if it'd be good enough to get me in. Then I wondered if I even cared. I think I cared a little bit but not as much as I was trying to make myself believe. I cared about not getting rejected but not about going to the dance school miles away.
"Are you going to tell me why you have dance class today?" My dad finally spoke up when we were one street away. His knuckles clutched the wheel harder than usual as we turned.
"Some talent people are coming in," I said slowly and carefully as I gauged his reaction.
My dad's eyes stayed firmly on the road and his lips were pressed together. I couldn't really work out how he was feeling.
"They're going to watch me perform," I carried on as we pulled up. I gripped my bag firmly in my hands, ready to jump out when given the chance.
"Talent people?" My dad said and nodded his head firmly but slowly. "Where are they coming from?"
"I'm going to be late," I replied instead as I glanced at the dashboards clock.
My dad knew where they were coming from just as much as I knew. He'd figured it out. I opened the car door but stayed sat with my legs leaning out for a moment. I turned my head to face my dad.
"If you really want to know," I began, "ask mum."
"Your mum?" He said. It wasn't a question,  his voice sounded unsurprised.
"And while you're at it," I said beginning to feel much braver. I didn't care about her and I was tired of protecting someone who didn't deserve protecting. I had to stand up for myself for once. "Ask her about why she's really here."
I left the car after that and slammed the door shut on my dad's questions. This was stuff that I didn't want to get involved in. Him and mum can sort it out themselves like they should've done in the first place.

I was shaking when I entered the changing rooms. I changed and read the "Good luck" texts from PJ and Chris one more time before entering the studio. I was the only one here as each person had ten minutes between them before the next performed. I stood in the centre of the room and faced the table of people I didn't know. Miss Chic was stood at the back of the hall, sat with her old stereo, ready to play my music. I'd given her the CD at the start of the week and told her which track to play. Everything was ready.
"Name?" Asked an older women, big 60's glasses were framing her face.  A man sat on one side of her, he also was older, and on the other side was a women in her late twenties who had a bright smile. She seemed like the only person happy to see me, the other two looked as gloomy and bored as they had done when I first saw them.
"Daniel Howell," I stated.
"Whenever you're ready," the younger women told me brightly as she scribbled something down on a sheet of paper. 
All the formalities were making me nervous but as soon as I'd indicated for the music to start playing and heard the first notes I started feeling calmer.

I put my arms into the preparatory position automatically and pressed my heels together. As soon as the first beat started, I began to move. Usually every jump I would say in my head, every turn would be imagined in my mind. Today, however, every movement had Phil behind it.  His face plagued me no matter what I did. The pirouette turns were the worst because I thought about the day I tried to teach him them. I'd been thinking about that day a lot lately.
This routine was the opposite to how mine and Phils pas de deux had been. I started out big, vibrant, jumping all around the stage like I had nothing to lose. By the end, I was curled up on the floor as small as I could get. I couldn't get any more closed up. I was breathing heavily as the music faded away and I heard clapping. When I stood, it was the younger one who was clapping whilst the other two looked exactly the same as before but were nodding as they wrote something down.
"We'll be in touch, Dan," the first woman told me and indicated for me to leave.
"Thank you." I nodded to them.
As I opened the changing room door, I looked up and caught a glance of Miss Chic. Her eyes were glinting for the first time since I'd known her and she smiled at me when she saw me looking. That was when I knew that I had done well.
I could've just changed my life forever.

AN:
Oh boy, Danny went through with the audition who would've thought?
All my assessments are finally over (for now) and life feels good again. Hope everyone is having/have had a good day!
- Rach x