Shhh! I have a secret. I think I can dance. When I see the show, So You Think You Can Dance, I always think yes…yes, I do think I can dance.
Now, to be clear – I don’t leap through the air or have any formal training in tap or ballet. I am not a street dancer. I do not do ballroom, albeit there was that disastrous effort about five years back when Kat, Tam and I went to ballroom dancing class (well really Kat and me – Tam almost always found an excuse to miss and yes, I am still bitter about that). I do not salsa, unless it is on my food, and I no longer attempt disco (although back in my very early adult years of 18-20 I was a Dancing Queen with one of my ex-beaus who loved disco – its all a haze now and “Hustle” means something totally different in my current vocabulary). And no, I never danced with a pole or in any capacity where the outfits were skimpy and the five inch heels were clear…I don’t care if it looks like me in those photos – it’s not me.
So, I have no real dance training or experience, but I love music and I think I have great “musicality” (I picked that term up from Dancing with the Stars). I can feel the music and visualize it in movement. Conceptually that should take me at least half the way. Alas, coordination is where I think my gifted status moves to more “if-ted” which is just a tad short of gifted. And when I say “tad” I mean that to be a euphemism in a polite society for “substantially lacking”.
But even knowing and acknowledging all of the above, I still love doing my dance thing and when I am doing it I really do believe I have the moves. To be honest, up until two years ago, I had never really seen myself dance. Prior to seeing myself dance I was holding on to the thought that I may just be a bit “gifted”, but bless my darling daughter Sarah for video taping my dancing at my wedding, that allowed me to let go of any misconceptions I had. Indeed, one of the most horrifying visual imprints I have in my mind is seeing the video she took of me from behind shaking my fanny at record speed (and let me just say cream lace is not slimming – and let’s not even have the white vs. cream discussion – if I ever have cause to marry again I will be wearing black and video cameras and cell phones will be banned from the vicinity).
At any rate, yes, I do think I can dance. Never mind that there is evidence out there to the contrary. I still go out and shake my booty (a.k.a., groove thing, moneymaker, etc.) with aplomb. I can’t help myself and I get such joy out of dancing that I just try and forget that I probably look like a science experiment gone wrong. So herein is either your warning (should you desire to avoid therapy having seen something you won’t soon forget) or your invitation (should you want a good laugh at the types of movements the uncoordinated can put together) – just in case you are in my vicinity when the “dancing” begins. Just wait…you’ll see how “if-ted” a dancer I am…and no, I don’t give lessons.
Day eighty of the new forty – obla di obla da