As a young ballerina, clad in a dark pink leotard, lighter pink tights, and pink ballet shoes, I often received the admonition, “Tuck your hips under!”

At the age of six, I didn’t understand the anatomy of hips—did they encompass my butt? or just the bony things just below my waist? I recall that, on more than one occasion, the teacher placed her hands on my waist (or, more specifically, the anterior superior iliac spines of my pelvis) and rotated my pelvis forward, thus eliminating the outline of my buttocks and minimizing any further motion of my pelvis.

In marching band, the concept of erect posture was drilled into my head: Pretend there is a string attached to the top of your head that is being pulled skywards. This image was meant to help us tuck our pelvises under, push our shoulders up and back, “engage our abdominal muscles”, and tuck our chins into our necks. Swaying hips are a detriment to the crisp lines associated with parade lines and to the sound produced with instruments: wobbling hips result in wobbling music. (This is also why marching bands spend so much time on the concept of “rolling your feet”—cushioning each step and minimizing the movement from the waist upwards fosters smooth sound and reduces the chance that one will inadvertently break a tooth from any jarring collisions with mouthpieces.)

Already taller than most girls, I was reluctant to wear high heels to high school dances and routinely took off the offending shoes for photographs so my dates would appear taller than me. Even now, my height is almost two standard deviations greater than the average height of women in the United States. This, in addition to the discomfort of these shoes, reinforces my avoidance of high heels (unless they are Danskos, as those do not contribute to back and feet problems). High heels, by shifting the center of gravity, induce women to stick their butts out for counterbalance purposes. Thus, although high-heeled shoes are often fetching, their true sex appeal resides within their abilities to highlight butts.

As a result of these experiences, I am not accustomed to sticking my butt out or unleashing my hips.

I’m at Camp Jitterbug again this year and I’m hearing the same suggestion I received last year: “Use your hips and stick out your butt. More. You need to lower your center of gravity to not only maintain your own balance, but to also help the lead with his.”

Ectomorphs have problems, too.

(Part of the ongoing Relationship Series.)