As mentioned in a previous post, I usually wait to write these doo-hickies until I notice a clear running theme of my week...after I notice a theme, I LOL at God’s sense of humor, take the hint, and sit down and expel creative vomit (aka these blogs). Usually the process takes about 7-8 days between writings...but this week’s theme is so freaking obvious that I can’t help but pop out a preemie on this lovely Tuesday, with the last writing being on Thursday.
So, I can’t believe I’m saying this....but I’ve been a dancing machine lately. I’m not good at it by any means, but man...I can’t stop till I get enough these days.
A little background info...I don’t dance in public. In fact, with the exception of a few hellish preschool-age years where my mom enrolled me in dance lessons to teach me “social skills”, I have managed to make it almost 26 years without hardly ever dancing (soberly) in public. I don’t know what it is, but I just can’t let loose and let my body feel the rhythm of the night...in public anyway. In the privacy of my own shower, living room, and kitchen is another story. Cooking is essentially a dance party of one (two if you count my dog). But never have I hardly ever busted a move for public viewing....until, well, yesterday....twice. And again today....twice. I’m talking full blown, front and center, everyone looking at me (and laughing)...until they eventually join in to be my back up dancers. I can’t help but compare the ridiculousity of myself over the past few days to the image of me as a 4- year old at a dance recital, looking pissed off to be stuck wearing a Minnie Mouse costume, standing in the back (so no one could see me) flailing my stupid white gloves like I have Turrets. All the other girls were so smiley and energetic, and there I was... the Grinch in the back who ate Mickey. My photos from that dance recital look nothing short of a pre-K mug shot.
The thing that has always kept me from shaking what my momma gave me in public has been the fear of how I look to other people. I don’t feel very coordinated and have a hard time getting my hips to disassociate from my trunk and my trunk to disassociate from my shoulders...I feel like I have the grace of Buzz Lightyear when it comes to dancing. So, I don’t do it, because, what if i look stupid? What if I’m not as good as the person next to me? How embarrassing!
Now...the good news and bad rolled into one. My “give a damn” is officially busted. I no longer really care what people think of me on a superficial level. If someone is going to judge me for something as shallow as looking like a Hobbit when I dance, they aren’t really a priority in my world. There was something magical that happened to me in 2009. I was ( in a weird way) blessed with such a heavy emotional load to carry, that, now, after that load has been lifted from me, I feel so incredibly light that I can’t help but develop the twinkle toes.
I remember when my dad called me on April 1 to tell me that my mom had had an aneurysm. As soon as he mentioned that pastoral care was meeting him in the parking lot to escort him into the hospital, I knew what that meant..so I puked and started pleading to God “I can’t do this...please, I can’t do this. There’s no way I can handle this ...It’s too much.” Well , guess what....two years later, I did handle it, and, as a result, my perceptions have been “fixed” to the point where I feel so light and free that I just dannnnnnce, its gonna be ok...do da doo, just daaance. As long as no one’s dying, its dancing weather!
So, over the past few days...I appear to have, how do they say... busted it wide open. It all started with Michael Jackson. A coworker enlightened me to how this Wii “Michael Jackson Experience” is the best game evvvver. So, I bought it, and quickly became addicted. Then, at work, I found myself with this patient who was totally faking her lower extremity weakness and pain...I knew she was faking because I saw her bear full weight on her lower extremities so many times when she thought I wasn’t watching that I had had it. So I decided that it was time for the ultimate trick ...it was prime time for Michael. So, I brought it in to work (not sure of the legality of bringing in a Michael Jackson game to a children’s hospital , but whatever). Side note: just to justify my statement that my give-a-damn is shot, I found myself sharing to the physicians that I was planning on doing MJ with this patient....only to find myself face to face with blank confused stares ,crickets, and awkward silences from the big dogs who write the orders that justify my job...oopsy. Maybe I should take my brain-mouth censor into the shop .
Later on that day, I was up for a little company during my cardio, so for some oddball reason I opted to try my first ever Zumba class at the gym. I strategically placed myself in the very back of the class with the fatties and other newbies who don’t know what they’re doing. Well, at one point, there was a particular segment to a particular song that involved everyone doing long jumps as quickly as they could to the front of the class so they can gliiiiide on back to the back. Somehow, I got a little over zealous with my jumping forward, and found myself in the front row....only to have the instructor grab me to “partner up” with me, thus putting myself front and center of the entire group of 25+ people...eeek! But, I decided to just go with it...it didn’t matter if I was good at the stupid dances or not...the worst that could happen was that someone in the class felt better about themselves by watching me break it down, or at least got a good laugh out of it. I looked like a fool but I had a blast. At one point, I LOL’d at myself in the mirror during this move where you were supposed to look all sexy and touch yourself from head to hips, and I just looked like I was doing head, shoulders, knees and toes. But, rather than beat myself up over the fact that I couldn’t make my body parts move in Part 1, Part 2, and the sequel like the black lady front row who could separate the wiggle of each ass cheek, I decided to cut myself a break and just get on down with my bad self. And, I know I wasn’t “chosen” to stay up front because of any skill...at the end of the class the instructor said “not bad for your first time”....which was a compliment, except that I had never mentioned that it was my first time. Obviously she could tell.
As my third dancing experience , today, I gave into one of my vices (Mickey D’s french fries) after a long day. Whilst waiting in the drive-thru I was shaking my groove thing , not realizing that the cashier had suddenly appeared at the window...until I heard “get it giiirl”....
Then, as the final confirmation that perhaps dancing is the theme of the week...I caught myself dancing this evening whilst walking my dog. Then I realized, I always do this. I don’t just walk my dog...I walk it out with my dog. I try to keep it low-key so its not quite obvious to the naked eye. I try to meet my dancing needs with a simple forearm pronation/supination action to the beat, or a wide-based gait followed by a quick step, or maybe a little shoulder shimmy if I can handle it. I can’t help it, sometimes Timbaland just effects me to the bones...I just can't help myself! It makes the chore of walking the dog fun...although potentially embarrassing. One of the residents at the hospital introduced himself in the elevator by saying “I see you walking your dog all the time along Coffee Pot....” Now, the average chick would hope that she wasn’t (or was, depending on who she is) wearing her booty shorts or that her hair was a mess when her colleague spotted her from afar. But no, not I...my questions to myself were
- was I doing a ridiculous dance move?
- was my dog humping anything?
- was I wearing my space camp shirt?
The thing is, once I realized that life is better enjoyed as a light-hearted fare, things got a little more fun. Once I stopped worrying so much about what other people thought and granted myself the freedom to enjoy myself, my life has become 100000% more enjoyable. And the ironic thing is, I’ve found that rather than being turned off by the spaz, a lot of people seem to look at you enjoying yourself, and in turn get inspired to lighten up and allow themselves to just enjoy themselves too...and fun-loving people make hella good back up dancers. So, the people I was afraid of end up being the ones saying “get it giiiirl”...weiiiiiird.
Granted, there’s a time and a place for seriousness. But, in the neutral times, why do we have weigh ourselves down with needless worry and fear about what other people might think? Instead, why can’t we cut ourselves some slack and enjoy the beat of all the good music around us? Juuust saying.
My ultimate goal is to be one of those people who can be loving to everyone they meet. But, I’ve found I can’t give away something that I don’t even give myself. So, I’ve decided that I love myself enough to cut myself some slack and give myself the freedom to wiggle wiggle just a little bit when I want to....despite the awkward looks I might get from time to time. In turn, I’ll be better equipped to cut other people some slack and give them the love they might need to get to a better place.
Random side note alert- I learned something about myself last week at a course I had to go to. I learned that I have an extra 6th lumbar vertebrae.(For my science nerd friends, I am now accepting bids on who gets to dissect my body after I die to check out my nerve innervation. Rules are you have to pay in advance ...I’ll come find you when I’m dead to let you know its time to cash in). Anyway, I had to google what this extra vertebrae meant, just to insure that it wasn’t a sign of some deadly cancer or something. Turns out, per my googling, the earliest human beings had six lumbar vertebrae, but most people evolved to have only five....except for me apparently. Despite google’s report, I am evolving. I’ve grown from the painfully shy five year old girl who used to piss her pants because she was too shy to ask to go to the bathroom ( I thought the teacher would think I was bad for needing to go), to the (for the record-totally continent) 25 year old who finds herself cutting a rug in public settings 4 times over 2 days....I don’t know what God is up to with me lately but I think its prettttty fun!
So, until next time....cut yourself some slack, lighten up....and get on down with your bad 5-vertebraed self! It’s so easy, even an cave woman (aka yours truly) can do it!
Feeling the rhythm of the night forever and always,
Sara
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