I think my parents can attest to my love of dance from birth. There’s a rumor that at age 3 I sat and watched the entire Nutcracker performed on PBS. Then, a couple of years later I was enrolled in my first class at our local YMCA. From there I was quickly recommended to start training with a dance studio. It was breathtaking… the huge mirrored walls, the slender girls with their face-lift hair do’s. And everyone was much older than me.
The instructor was very strict, I remember, but I must have lost my mind when I decided I wanted to quit. And since my parents were never the kind to force a child into something they hated (other than vegetables), quit I did.
I don’t remember exactly when I started thinking about dance again. Not just watching it, but being it. Because you can’t just do dance, it comes from somewhere in your soul.
Anyway. The past year or so I’ve tossed around the idea of joining an adult dance class. But now all those years of enjoying the ballet come back to haunt me. Physically. I’m far from slender, and hardly athletic. Some days I’m barely coordinated enough to not run into the door frame. But I still love to dance.
I can’t describe how badly I want this, nor how terrified I am of my 26 year old self not having anything left of that 6 year old ballerina.
I know that I should just try it, regardless of what I might look like in a leotard. Maybe I’m more afraid that I just CAN’T. That even with all my best effort, I won’t be able to do the work. That I’m just too late.
I’m really not sure what to do here.
I’m just not.


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