With so much going on in my life at the moment (see previous post), one would think that life was pretty crappy for me at this time. But it's not really, we're going over a bit of a hurdle, we'll get there eventually, and in the meantime I have my latest joy to keep me happy.
Five weeks ago I started attending tap dance classes - and I LOVE it!
Growing up, my very closest friend was a dancing queen; she attended troup lessons on Saturdays, private lessons (ballet, jazz and tap) during the week, undertook exams and of course 'did the concert'. Being relatively inseparable on weekends (we attended different high schools and alternated at each other's houses each alternate weekend), I used to watch her and her dancing friends as they strutted their stuff on a Saturday morning, sometimes for several hours at a time, in the old church hall up the road.
I became a part of that social group - her friends became 'our' friends, one in particular, the others always familiar faces at her birthday parties and the odd trip to the city as we moved into our teens. But I was never a 'dancer'; though I craved to be one I just couldn't bring myself to ask my parents if I could take part, and by the time I was 16 or 17, that part of life had passed me by, because as a girl of 16 or 17, the thought of taking beginners dancing lessons is a bit humiliating - if you hadn't done it by then, you pretty much had missed the boat.
Why I couldn't voice my desire is something that still remains a mystery to me, but I suspect that my excruciating level of shyness had something to do with it, my paranoia about embarrassing myself or not being 'good' at the whole dancing thing, or the fact that at home I was often praised as a 'smart' girl who loved books and classical piano (which, incidentally I WAS pretty good at!). Also, being on the....ahem....chunky side for most of my life, getting into a leotard amongst all those skinny girls wasn't something that I relished the thought of.
So, it was destiny that I was to forgo the chance to pursue my little fantasy of being the next Ginger Rogers.
But, five weeks ago I decided to finally follow this little dream of mine, which had never really subsided, and in fact was exaccerbated when another friend of mine took up tap dancing as an adult a few years ago.
Having donned the shoes and attended the classes, I have not looked back. It is just such a wonderful feeling to be finally doing that one thing that I have almost literally always wanted to do. For that one hour each week I am in another world, my problems fade away as I focus on getting the steps and the beat right. I practise most nights, in my loungeroom, with the CD that the dancing teacher provided (full of very old-school tap dancing music, titled 'Music Maestro Please' - you get the picture) playing at the highest volume level. Harry the cat HATES it when I practise, and actually attacks my legs - one night he sunk his teeth in and drew blood - but I have learned (and so has he) that a quick squirt of water from a water bottle sends him running, and leaves me able to focus on getting the tap tap tap correct.
I always thought that having made the decision to take adult tap dance classes I would somehow feel a sense of regret that I didn't speak up when I was younger, that I would lament the fact that I didn't do this when I was a girl. I was wrong.
Doing something like this at middle age has made the experience all the more enjoyable and precious.
Concert tickets anyone?
Talk later
Janeane
xx
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