I love to dance. I really love to dance. Besides the greatest work out ever and all the friends I've made through Jazzericse, the dancing is why I love it so much.
I have to say - if we're being perfectly honest here - and I am, of course - that I'm a pretty good dancer. I have moves and I'm not afraid to use them.
My husband is not as in love with the dance as I am. He'll get out there for a few songs but there's always a bit of coaxing involved. I don't really need him, though. I never hesitate, even for a moment, to dance by myself.
When I dance in public it never occurs to me that people are watching me. Oops, I said I was going to be honest, didn't I. Ok, then, maybe - just maybe it enters my mind that one or two people on the side lines are thinking, "Wow, check her out, that one with the white hair can really move."
Yeah, the "white hair" has been making me re-think the whole "shake your money-maker" thing.
You've all been there; either in a bar or an outdoor festival and watched (while cringing) an older lady dancing. She has her shimmy going full blast and the butt shakin' has gotten out of control. You're trying not to look but it's like a car wreck - you can't not look. All the while feeling embarrassed for the poor thing.
I don't want to be her.
So I need to find a happy medium. I'm still going to use my shimmy at Jazzercise because, people, I'm not kidding - it's award winning. The world should not be denied.
However, I don't want to look like some old fuddy-duddy out there on the floor either.
Looks like I'll need to put in a little practice time in front of the bedroom mirror, eh? How's that for a pathetic picture.