97/365: Swing Out with a Flailing Variation

Sent 6 July 2010

We all like to think that we can dance, that we possess a modicum of rhythm. But going along to a dance class shows me that maybe dancing isn’t a birth rite bestowed on everyone. There are those who are obviously talented in that area, bopping along with an ease that is envious, but unfortunately there are also those who are painful to watch. Who are dancing to a song that no one else can hear, each step flaunting the beat and surely harming young children and puppies somewhere, somehow.

Now the scary part is that I don’t know really where I fit on the scale. Am I good? Am I terrible? Everyone is too polite. They all smile at you and congratulate you for not falling over. But surely just remaining on my feet isn’t a sign that I am an awesome dancer? Just that I have okay balance and aced the whole ‘learning to use my legs’ thing. What if I am one of those people that cause others to cringe? What if they are all dreading when they have to dance with me? Perhaps there should be an optional class you can go to where they tell you how it is.

“Sorry sunshine. I know you’re having fun, but for the wellbeing of everyone else involved, please try flower arranging”. It’s harsh I know, but maybe I would want to know…….maybe. Or maybe I would just like to pretend I am great.

Till tomorrow



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