She is the dancing queen
By: Linda McCarthy
The television show "Dancing with the Stars" seems to have taken on amazing popularity.
Of course I’ve never seen it, but that’s what I’ve heard. I guess the fact that I have two left feet might have something to do with it. I’m just a little bitter regarding other people’s dance accomplishments. It’s a common malady called hoofer’s envy.
When I was a kid, I always wanted to take ballet lessons. Believe it or not, at the time, I actually had the body of a lithe ballerina. But my mom thought I should take piano lessons instead.
To make a long story short, I adamantly protested, put no effort into tinkling the ivories, and now I can neither dance nor play piano. There’s a lesson in there somewhere: let your kids gravitate toward their interests and encourage them.
A few years ago, my neighbor convinced me to join a hip-hop dance class. I couldn’t wait to start. I pictured myself as the suburban housewife version of J. Lo.
Then I got there. The poor instructor wasn’t sure if I was dancing or having a seizure. She kept trying to loosen me up, but apparently years of inactivity on the dance floor left me with all the flexibility of Frankenstein’s monster. I think I lasted a week.
I tried living vicariously through my boys. But they never had an interest in dancing so that is a whole facet of life I’ve missed out on.
My niece has been taking lessons for 13 years. Up until now, I’ve managed to avoid going to most of her recitals. I remember I went to one a few years back. It lasted all day and included dancers from age 2 to 92.
The only thing worse than watching someone else’s toddler twirl around stage is watching someone’s grandmother. My niece was the second to last act; she was on stage for three minutes.
The costumes are another issue. I understand they are pretty pricey and the dancers need a different one for each act. I’m not sure, but I think a chair is also standard issue because I must have seen 15 girls do the same dance to music from "All That Jazz."
The chair, the skimpy costume and a not-so-lady-like position had me squirming in my seat. The girls were about 12-years-old. Yet again, I’m reminded of why God sent me boys. If they were my daughters, my husband would have rushed the stage with something to cover them up.
I admit I was envious of the adult dancers. They looked like they were having so much fun up there. I figure if I start now, by the time I’m 92 I might have a few steps down.
My instructor will have to the patience of Job, though. Since I’m a not-so-tiny-dancer, finding a tutu in my size might pose a problem. But I’m confident I can wow the audience with a modern dance rendition of Queen’s "Fat Bottomed Girls."
Linda McCarthy resides in Robbinsville with her husband and three children.