Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Just one more dance...........Please!
I was thinking the other day....rare, I know....but, I was. I was looking at my worn shoes wishing I never would have stopped dancing Flamenco. You see, I started dancing Flamenco because I was getting too old to dance jazz anymore. No, what I meant was, I just couldn't beat out the younger girls anymore. They had the advantage over me just by being younger. It wasn't because I didn't have "it", rather because I was dancing with girls 10 to 15 years younger than I...little brats.
I was never very good, really. Not very technical, not very well trained but I could put on a show. I had likability. It was my saving grace. Technically, I stunk. Badly.
I started Flamenco classes in my 30's sometime. My cousin and I were coming out of a ballet class, another thing I wasn't very good at, and we walked around the corner to find a Flamenco class going on. I think it had just started but we stayed and watched the whole thing. I was itching to jump into the class but I waited a few weeks so I could get up the nerve to walk into the beginning class.
Not long after I moved into the advanced class. If you've ever seen Flamenco, you know that it is pure passion that moves the dancer. No passion, no dance. Well, either that or no audience. And once you've been bit by the Flamenco bug, girlfriend! You may as well just go out and buy your castanets, shoes and dance bag cause there's no known cure.
So I guess you might ask, after that last statement "soooo, why aren't you dancing anymore?" "Excellent question", she responds. The reason I stopped was not because I lost the love or desire for the dance. It wasn't because the younger girls were too much competition for me because this is one dance you can dance until the skin on your back begins to sag....Oooooh, yuck! I stopped because I was in a family way. Yep, prego!
Such a long time ago (Karina's gonna be 15 soon), yet I still feel it. The desire to dance. Of course, I couldn't get into my costumes even if I used a tub of axle grease. And the cost of new outfits would probably break the bank.
Truth is, I tried to get back to it by taking classes from a friend of mine. Something always came up to interfere. And then with the memory being gone like it is, I'm not sure if I'd remember where I was much less the steps. I can see it now: I step out into the spotlight, pose, turn, do some fancy footwork, turn again (what the heck!), and then right at the dramatic pause in the music.....where the heck am I? And why are those people staring at me like that!
Maybe it's not the saggy back that keeps you from dancing. Maybe, it's just life. Life changes when you have a family...no duh...you start putting your own needs on the back burner sure you'll get back into the swing....15 years later....with he beginnings of a saggy back...Ahhh, the dream.