I wish I could dance. I so wish I could dance. And I don't mean, "dance in the living room dance party or crazy chaperone dance moves", I mean DANCE.
As I watch So You Think You Can Dance, I am simply in awe. First of all, the bodies are ripped. Second, the dance moves are amazing. Third, the bad ones are so bad, that my dancing looks good! If you haven't seen this show, you gotta see it.
I was never the little girl who spent her days in dance recitals. Just the very mention of it would send me into a state of fear. Turns out shy little girls and dance recitals don't mix. I bet I would have rocked the tutus, though.
Instead of dancing, I spent my childhood on clay soccer fields. I loved it. Well, I loved it when I was little and played forward. I could run fast and score goals. Who wouldn't love that, right? Then my stupid coach moved me to goalie. WHAT? No more fun for Chelle. Now that I am a mom who is dreading a potential future of soccer games on cold Saturday morning (pick swimming, son. Pick swimming.) I now understand why my mom cheered so loudly when I announced my decision to quit soccer.
About the same time that I began kicking the ball around, I started throwing and catching a softball. And spent the next 20 years on dirt fields. I. LOVED. SOFTBALL. Athletically, I wasn't a superstar. Not by any means. I had the chance to play at that next level and was surprised to learn that the game stopped being fun. I could hold my own physically but mentally, the pressure was too much for me. Despite that slight blip, I learned a lot about myself and continued playing as close to year-round as I could. High school teams. Recreational teams. Intramural teams in college. Adult teams. I hung up my glove in 2006 when I started having back pain but secretly hope to break it out again when Alexander discovers his love of baseball (pick baseball, son. Pick baseball.)
I wonder if they would have let me wear a tutu on the ball field...