I’ve tried to quit so many times I’ve lost count. But something always drags me back. I can’t explain it. It’s really much too expensive of a habit for me to have acquired, but I just can’t stop myself.
I started a new dance class tonight. That makes two a week now. I started taking a contemporary jazz class back in September, and have now joined another one at Diamond Head Theatre. I think there’s only one other actual adult in the class. Everyone else seems to be sprightly, bendy teenagers. It was good for my body, though perhaps not so much for my mind. Why are adult classes so easy? Just because I can’t get down to the floor and back up as easily as I used to doesn’t mean I can’t handle a challenging bit of footwork. But I shouldn’t complain. It’s not as if I look all that hot.
Something crazy has happened to my arms in the three years I spent sitting on my couch. They were always my trouble spot. It seems that besides getting some strength back, this is the area that will need the most retraining.
People love to debate the existence of fate. Are we meant for a specific something? I can barely even remember my first dance classes, I was so young. Did I choose it, or is it what I was born for? Perhaps I never fulfilled my destiny. I certainly didn’t reach my potential. But every time I’ve tried to say, “No more,” I’ve always found myself somehow back in the studio without really knowing how I got there.
I’m considering auditioning for a show this summer. Has anybody done Legally Blonde? Does that show need dancers? Lord knows I won’t get in on my singing and acting. The chorus line is my home, anyway. The theatre is like my church, and the stage my sanctuary. Maybe it’s time to hang up the tap shoes. Or maybe it’s time to buy some new ones.