You Are the Dancing Queen! (but I'm not)
I love to dance! And I do, all the time. At home. In my car. At clubs. And weddings.
Not that lack of technical skill has ever stopped me, but I really wish I knew how to do it properly.
Now that The Amazing Race is over, I’ve turned my attentions to the second season of So You Think You Can Dance, which I love and which has transformed my previously boring Wednesday nights into two solid hours of leaping around the family room.
Reaching back into childhood and adolescence, I remember art lessons. I recall playing soccer and swimming many laps as a competitive swimmer. There were a couple years of gymnastics. More than a couple years of piano lessons. I even took trampoline lessons once! Oh yes. Don’t challenge my bouncing skills.
But for some reason my mom never asked me if I wanted to become a hip-hop queen. Or a jazz champ. I would even settle for the “Marginally Good at Waltzing” award.
I do not know how to let a man lead me when I’m dancing with a partner. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? Control issues? A fear of dancing backwards off a cliff? Am I trying to start a feministic dancing revolution?
My husband is used to it. However, at a recent wedding I danced with another man and I could feel that he was trying to guide me, to make me twirl, or dip, or FOR GOD’S SAKE, JUST LET ME DO SOMETHING. I wanted to oblige him, but my body flatly refused.
In my classes at the gym I’ve noticed that many of the women know things. Like how to hold their fingers in a certain ballerina-way while stretching. Or how to spin around three times in a row without ending up two feet away from where they started. Even some of the men know these things.
THERE IS AN ENTIRE SECRET SOCIETY OF DANCERS AT GOLD’S GYM.
I’ve been able to pick up on some of these secret moves, but there’s only so much I can copy without being obvious. And pathetic. But I am determined, DETERMINED that one day, not only will I have fun dancing, but I will look like I know what I’m doing. There’s just the small matter of getting to that day.
I must also confess that I am in love with the host of So You Think You Can Dance, Cat Deeley. She has the. cutest. accent. ! For example, when she says "Martha", it sounds like "Marther." And just wait until you hear her say "Let's meet our judges!" The amount of cuteness that leaks from your TV when Cat says "judges!" will melt your 6-burner stainless steel Viking range. M is more than a little tired of listening to me repeat everything she says during the commercial breaks.
"You two were dancing fools out there! That was extraordinary! Judges, what did you think?"
Then I point my pretend microphone at M.
M: (sighs tiredly)
I told M that he can have an affair with Cat if he wants to. That's how adorable I think she is. But if I find out she can tap dance, I may have to keep her all to myself.
Labels: Inside My Head