Just Dance

I reached for my fav coffee mug: "Dance as though no one is watching...", so I did. I danced a little jig. The kid in me loved it, then left it there. The adult in me just shook her head. The critic in me said that wasn't good enough. The artist in me suggested to add bkgrnd music, colored lights, and costume. Then the Spirit in me said, "Pay no attention to them, Honey... just do it.  Just dance!"  --posted on Facebook, Sept 7, 2010

Funny how much fun dancing can be if I can just "get over" my inhibitions.  I'm not a good dancer, at all, and no one has to point that out to me.  But, if I'm by myself I can pretend that I'm the bell of the ball, all poised & postured quite capable of gliding the waltz  and even doing the curtsy afterwards.  I can even imagine that I might be the vixen swaying to the bosa nova, and that I can't stop until this hot mama does the dubious tango dip.   I can imagine conquering the cha-cha step and the mambo rumba, as well as swan diving into my partner's awaiting arms.  Ah, yes... I can imagine, but that's about all that I can do.

Once upon a time, though, tap shoes were on my feet.  It was only for a short season when I was in kindergarten, and I can remember the sound of my taps on the plywood board.  Daddy cut the board just for me, and Mama allowed it to be set up in the living room (the only room with a TV).  The sound was muffled compared to the bright tapping sound of dancing on the concrete garage floor, and then there was this funny odor that I stirred up every time I danced on that unfinished piece of pine lumber.

Sometime in that same foggy memory, someone slipped a pair of scruffy silver ballet shoes with their black elastic straps onto my feet.  It embarrassed me.  Can't remember why, but my guess is that I knew, even back then, that I was not a dancer.  And, besides, when I walked in those ballet slippers they made scrunchy noises, and when I tried standing on my tip-toes... it hurt, big time!

Don't know who wore out first:  Mama & Daddy who gave up their living room, the dancing shoes with their elastic & ribbons ties, or me with my short attention span.  But, something happened to the dancing lessons.  They stopped when I started something else. 

So, now when I see my coffee cup that encourages me to dance as if no one is looking, I can't help but wonder if Mrs. Dye, my kindergarten teacher isn't behind the marketing of the slogan.  She saw me dance, and either she saw potential, or she saw disaster...  disaster, most likely.  No one will ever know because that was a very, very long time ago, and unfortunately she is no longer living.  But, either way, I like the saying, and I think I'll do just as it says.... dance as though no one is watching.  And if they are watching, and they don't like what they see, then they can just turn their heads and look the other way because, my friend, it's time to dance, and I can hear the music.  Join me, won't you?  I won't look if you won't!  Promise!



@Copyright, 2010 Cindy Lou Hodges, All rights reserved.