Dance Like Nobody is Watching

Alex from Ma What's For Dinner has been kind enough to be my guest blogger today. You have to swing over to her blog to check out all her amazing and mouthwatering recipes. Since Alex is a mom she totally understands the importance of  fast, healthy and fun meals for the whole family. I so appreciate Alex taking a break from her usual recipes to share another part of her life. Thanks Alex!

When Katie asked me to be a guest post while she was gone I was so honored...

I jumped at the chance!

I adore her blog and love to read all about how she is handling first time Mommyhood.  She always manages to start my days off with a smile.

Then...

Panic set in.

See, my blog is all about recipes.  That's what I usually write about.  Me and the boys in the kitchen whipping up some delight.

All of the sudden I had to be witty and engrossing for someone else?

Ahhh!

The pressure.

So, as Katie's blog is not about food I'm going to embrace my inner blogger and blog like nobody's reading...care to join me?

Have your ever heard the saying "to dance like nobody's watching?"  The first time I heard it I loved it.
Really loved it.  I thought, yes of course, that is how everyone should live their lives, not caring what anyone thinks, and then I remembered that I have never ever in my entire life not cared what anyone thinks.  I was always the girl in high school concerned about her appearance, about what people thought, about how pretty I looked, how smart I came across, how popular I was, yadda yadda yadda.  It was exhausting.  In college, it was no better.  I was constantly concerned with my grades, my friends, my reputation.  And even now, you will NOT catch me in a bathing suit.  But at the end of the day, who on earth am I trying to impress?  My husband adores me, my kids love me not matter what?  What is all this about?  Why can't I just dance like nobody is watching?



So a few days ago I go to my first Zumba class.  Yes it's totally ridiculous and it's a bunch of old ladies and young hot teeny boppers jumping around an aerobic studio but when I don't feel like torturing myself for 45 minutes on a treadmill sweating with the masses is my happy alternative.  See, I'm not a dancer, I never was a dancer.  I was a gymnast for a while, but graceful I was not!  I believe my nick name was "froggy legs."  Anyway, I remember taking some modern dance classes somewhere around junior high and always being the worst one in the class sort of got to me after a while, so I quit.  I'm not exactly coordinated when it comes to choreography.



But you know what?  When you just can't take another kickboxing or pilates mat class you just gotta step it up right?  So look out Pasha and Anya (uh, that's a SYTYCD reference for those of you who actually have lives and aren't attached to your TVs) here comes Alex.

OH MY GOD!  Well I almost killed the poor old lady next to me during some samba shimmy sashay thing but I survived it.  But what struck me during the whole thing was that I couldn't take my eyes off this woman in the front.

Let's call her, Sally.

Well, Sally looks like life may have not been the easiest for her.  She's in her early 30's, as homely as all get out, she's sort of a big girl, she's got the big oversized glasses and if she was a dude she'd be wearing a pocket protecter.

Let's put it this way, if I was back in high school, we would not have asked her to sit at our lunch table (and yes, as an adult I now know that's wrong, but that's a whole other post.)

Anyway, Sally pretty much screams dork.  But there she is, front and center, right in front of the mirror, right next to that tiny little energizer bunny of an instructor...Sally is hard to miss.  And she's moving before they even turn the music on.  I sort of giggle to myself and the music gets going.

Ok, these people don't waste anytime.  We're moving and grooving and I'm trying to pick up and place my feet like a billion times faster than any kickboxing class.  Oh and apparantly there are all these muscles in the hip area that I clearly haven't used in decades, much to my hubs dismay.

But then there's Sally...she's a machine, she's sweating and adding hops and getting her swerve on!  Now, her dancing skills are not better than mine, and we've already established that is not saying much, but you know what?

SHE DOESN'T CARE.



SALLY IS HAVING A BLAST.

And her reckless abandon is making me care a bit less about how stupid I look, and I assure you I did look stupid, but suddenly I'm adding a bit of swagger, I'm adding a little roll, I'm tossing in the sexy arms, and I'm having a blast.  Suddenly I'm dancing a fool, even if there are a bunch of college cheerleaders behind me, I mean really?  Cheerleaders?

I learned a valuable lesson at Zumba.  And I can't wait to go back.

So thank you, Sally.

Thank you for helping me get over myself...

For helping me learn to live a bit...

For helping me let go a bit.

Thank you for teaching me to dance like nobody is watching.

If you're a fan of So You Think You Can Dance, and we've already established that I am and I don't, then you know that Saturday July 31st is National Dance Day.  It is supposed to include a variety of dance-themed activities for people of all ages. It will empower, challenge and inspire everyone to try various styles of dance ranging from hip-hop to ballroom to anything that moves. Above all, it will encourage everyone to DANCE as a means to stay fit and be healthy.  I'll be at a zumba class.  What will you be doing?  And will you do with as much passion as Sally?

Thank you, Katie, for letting me get my rant on and my inner blogger out.  I hope that I helped hold down the fort for you while you're gone.  Enjoy your time away and big kisses to your adorable and lucky men.