From the time I was 4 or 5, I always wanted to be a dancer. For a few months, my parents put me in ballet classes at the local community college. I was a natural (or so I’d like to remember). For a reason I can’t remember (but it was probably lack of money) my parents didn’t take me anymore. I was on my own as far as learning sweet moves. I turned to Mtv for all of my dancing knowledge. I wanted to be a Solid Gold Dancer. I wanted to be on Fame.

A few years later, after moving to another town, I got a new next door neighbor and best friend, Susie. She shared both my love of dancing and my lack of formal training. We talked our parents into buying us matching leg warmers (pastel stripes) and the work began. Hours and hours of choreographing and rehearsing in my basement. For weeks, people. We poured our hearts and souls into our routine. The song was “All I Need is a Miracle” by Mike and the Mechanics, and, indeed, what we needed was a real miracle… because our goal was to take our routine on Star Search. And win it, baby. We incorporated a lot of running in place, and floor rolls, and pointing at imaginary audience members, a la Flashdance (and yeah, I’d seen Flashdance, and no, I don’t know why my mother allowed me to watch such a sassy show at such a young age). After polishing our routine, we finally called our parents to the basement and allowed them to see what we’d been working so hard on. We turned the music up loud and danced our butts off. I thought for sure I really nailed it with the jump-off-the-couch-with-a-spin-and-land-on-my-knees-on-a-pillow move. I thought they were really impressed. But in the end, what they told us was that we needed to practice more before any calls would be made to the Star Search people. We were kinda crushed. But we kept dancing.
By middle school I had discovered a goddess named Paula Abdul. Her music was great, and her dancing was even better. I thought her CD “Shut Up and Dance” was brilliantly titled. I wished more people in the world would just shut up and dance. Except for me. I was allowed to talk while I danced. I bought Paula’s “behind the scenes” video cassette that chronicled her years from Laker Girl to Pop Sensation. I memorized it. I giggle along with her as she told the story of how she passed off her mom as her agent when the music industry came calling because she didn’t have a real agent. “Just tell them you’re my agent. I don’t know, tell them anything.” Haha, oh Paula, I would have done the same thing, you clever minx. I danced in front of any mirror I could find. Actually, I danced in front of anything that had any sort of reflective properties whatsoever; store windows, car door panels… At school dances, I danced in a circle of kids, pantomiming the choreography from Paula’s music videos. (Straight up!)

By high school I realized that there were girls who were better dancers than me. Girls whose parents kept them in dancing lessons. Girls who had seen and worked with real choreographers. As much as I still loved to dance, I wasn’t as confident as I once was. I found cheerleading and that gave me a little bit of dancing and performing, but it wasn’t exactly what I loved. I practiced routines to Janet and Paperboy in my bedroom. But only in my bedroom.

When I was 20, I had moved to Utah. I heard about the open call for dancers to audition for the Utah Jazz dancers. I totally had to do it. I psyched myself into going. The guy I was dating at the time offered to drive me over to the Delta Center the morning of auditions. Right before we left, one of his friends said to me “you do realize that all the girls who will get it will be girls who know Larry Miller (the owner of the Jazz).” That gave me a psychological kick in the gut. By the time we got to the Delta Center, I was deflated. When I saw the hundreds of girls walking into the Delta Center for auditions, I wanted to cry. I chickened out. I tell myself it never would have happened anyway, but honestly… who knows?

A few years ago I took a hip-hop class at the Gold’s Gym where I had a membership. I was a good 10 years older than anyone else in the class, including the instructor. The first night of class he explained that he was a dance teacher at BYU, and would there be anyone in the class taking dance at BYU this semester? Everyone’s hands up went up except for mine. Dude, I was old, and clearly not a dancer. But that was okay. I was just there for fun. I had given up on the dream of being a real dancer. I didn’t have to impress anyone, and I certainly wasn’t being graded. So he started teaching us a routine to a nice Craig David song. (I’m fairly sure I was the only person in the room who knew that it was actually a Sting song… and I was definitely the only one in the room to think that Sting is hella-hotter than Craig David.) I was also the suckiest dancer in the room. Hands down. By the end of class, the instructor was giggling at me and wiping a tear from the corner of his eye and giving me the condescending: oh, I love it, you’re great.

And with that, any wisp of the smallest hope of me being a dancer went out the window. He told me that the dirty dancing class might be a better fit for me. That’s the class lots of chubby moms take to feel sexy, and slowly melt away the post-baby pounds. Grinding hips, fist pumps in the air, zero talent needed.

Thanks, junior. You punk ass. (I quit Gold’s, also…but not just for that reason.)

Now I only dance if I am alone or with Zoe. Because Zoe doesn’t care that I dance in a stupid fashion. I still have a few good years before I become lame and dorky in her eyes. A few things still really get me going, though. One is the release of awesome movies like Step Up, (which I watched with Jon the other night and he said and I quote “How much longer is this stupid movie??”) and Step Up 2 the Streets which I’m dying to see. In my mind I am dancing with Channing Tatum (the cutie pants), and I rock it. Suspension of reality is good sometimes. And who knows… maybe in my next life I’ll be married to Channing Tatum and we’ll own a break dance studio and I’ll give lessons to the punk brat from Gold’s Gym, berating him all the while on his lack of skillz.

Shut up and let a girl dream…

Better yet, just shut up and dance.

5 Comments »

  1. I am looking forward to seeing Step Up 2 also. I probably will wait though till it comes out on DVD. I don’t think my John is too thrilled to spend money to see it, bummer. Too bad we don’t live closer together. We could go see it and listen to Paula Abdul on the way to the movies. I loved Paula Abdul, but for me Janet Jackson was THE BOMB! I still listen to her albums “Rhythm Nation” and “Control”. Did you know that Paula was one of Janet’s dancers in the video “Nasty Boys”? Music now a days just doesn’t compare. P.S. Uh, I still do the running man….

    Comment by Cassie — February 18, 2008 @ 7:18 pm

  2. Mike and the Mechanics, that takes me back. I keep telling Tony that I want that album on my ipod but he hasn’t yet.

    Comment by Sam — February 19, 2008 @ 6:38 am

  3. Lots of people have the dancer dream. Ask Stephanie about the routines she did in her room. I actually think she still does them when I am out out the house.

    -Stu

    Comment by Stu — February 19, 2008 @ 2:52 pm

  4. See, I knew you would understand the whole dancing thing. You have that vibe.

    Once my dreams were dashed, I still did Jazzercise, because I love learning routines, if for no other reason than I smile like a blooming idiot the whole time. I really love it.

    Comment by Lisa Milton — February 19, 2008 @ 6:01 pm

  5. My friend Michelle and I did the same thing!!! We practiced tirelessly in my basement creating routines to “Head To Toe” by Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam and “Rough Boy” by ZZ Top (that one was for when wanted to ‘bring it down’ a little, after all the excitment of our amazing “Head To Toe” moves). We were so serious about it. But, we didn’t even have the courage to show my parents. It was always a work in progress. The funny thing? I still remember those routines!

    I always dreamed of being on Star Search. Somehow, I knew, though - I just didn’t have it. But a girl can dream.

    I think I love you so much more after this post, if that is even possible.

    Comment by Leslie — February 23, 2008 @ 8:03 am

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