When in doubt... dance
With my clumsiness and lack of co-ordination - I can fall off a flat shoe - it is amazing that I have any rhythm and panache for dance.
As a young girl I studied ballet, tap and modern dance at the local dance school. The words "step, ball, change on the diagonal" still sends a shiver down my spine. The room upstairs at the YMCA had a wall of mirrors, an upright piano, a row of plastic seats and windows overlooking the park with the brightly decorated wall. The pianist was the dance teacher's mother and occasionally leapt up from the piano to show us a step sequence, frustrated that we couldn't grasp it quickly. She taught my mother. She always wore a swishy skirt and her feet were encased in the greek-style dance shoe. Her daughter, our regular teacher, wore plain tracksuit bottoms a plain t-shirt and footwear appropriate to the dance class.
I loved every aspect of my dancing time; the learning, the discipline, the practice, the exams, the shows, the uniform - a red leotard or catsuit. My only regret is never going en pointe in ballet. Dance is the only subject I was ever an "Honours" student in and I always regretted not continuing.
Until about three years ago.
I spent approximately 20 years half-copying dances that all the pop groups did (I was amazing. Stop it with the ::eye roll:: The curtains were shut, don't worry) and couldn't pass a decent bit of parquet floor without banging out a timestep. I enrolled in an aerobic class at the local leisure centre with the idea of losing a bit of weight and centering my core... or something.
Aerobics is hard work. Intense. I'd forgotten that bit. As the sweat dripped down my brow I paused to pick up my towel and caught sight of another class in the next room. Ladies Tap.
For the next couple of weeks I continued with mytorture Aerobics class, looking longingly at the class next door. On the third week I turned up for Aerobics but the teacher didn't. Fate? I like to think so. It gave me an excuse to go and enquire next door. Plus I was already 'watching' a pair of tap shoes on eBay. I had also 'Stumbled'* a quote by Terri Guillemets:
I am not really the right shape or fitness for tap dancing. My boobs are way bigger than they were twenty years ago and it's almost as energetic as aerobics but it is one of the best decisions I ever made. Dance is the one thing that I don't share with any other member of my family and I feel gives me an edge. But not one that I'm going to fall off.
As a young girl I studied ballet, tap and modern dance at the local dance school. The words "step, ball, change on the diagonal" still sends a shiver down my spine. The room upstairs at the YMCA had a wall of mirrors, an upright piano, a row of plastic seats and windows overlooking the park with the brightly decorated wall. The pianist was the dance teacher's mother and occasionally leapt up from the piano to show us a step sequence, frustrated that we couldn't grasp it quickly. She taught my mother. She always wore a swishy skirt and her feet were encased in the greek-style dance shoe. Her daughter, our regular teacher, wore plain tracksuit bottoms a plain t-shirt and footwear appropriate to the dance class.
Until about three years ago.
I spent approximately 20 years half-copying dances that all the pop groups did (I was amazing. Stop it with the ::eye roll:: The curtains were shut, don't worry) and couldn't pass a decent bit of parquet floor without banging out a timestep. I enrolled in an aerobic class at the local leisure centre with the idea of losing a bit of weight and centering my core... or something.
Aerobics is hard work. Intense. I'd forgotten that bit. As the sweat dripped down my brow I paused to pick up my towel and caught sight of another class in the next room. Ladies Tap.For the next couple of weeks I continued with my
"Stifling an urge to dance is bad for your health - it rusts your spirit and your hips."
*See the website StumbleUpon for more details on how to find random websites.