I think this title is possibly a quote from Louise Rennison's Georgia Nicholson series. It is indeed very true of my life.
I do a lot of being loud and singing, but dancing is a (family) failing.
I blame my parents. They should have been pushy parents and sent me to dance classes. Although I probably wouldn't have appreciated the scraped-back-high-side-pony-french-plaits-with-a-scrunchy look.
To give them their due, they may have sent me to ballet. But unfortunately, I never got past the 'good toes, naughty toes' stage.
I also blame my sister. Or possibly Faye. One of them must have told me at a birthday party when we were little and dancing to The Birdie Song, that jumping up and down vertically did not constitute dancing. Clearly this has scarred me for life.
When I dance , I am wild.
In fact, I take it all back. I can dance.
I just dance like a loon on loon tablets.
I redeemed myself one year when I was cast AS A DANCER (or rather a dancing wood) in Into the Woods. In the call-back audition, I remember everybody whipped out their ballet shoes and I looked a bit sheepish and just did it in bare feet. I was not elegant. But lo a nd behold, I was cast. AND I went on to receive the Darcy Bussell Award for Achievement in Ballet*.
This dancing was put to good use when the group were invited to watch a Rajasthani folk dancing troop. Faye and I stealthily snuck in behind a group of school children. Except it wasn't very stealthy as we were the only non-Indians and were about 3 feet taller than everyone (yes, even me). The lead dancer grabbed Faye and in front of all these unsuspecting infants, Faye had to perform a wonderful dance.
Naturally, I wet myself laughing.
That is, until the next song began. And it was my turn.
I think I found my niche. It is possible to flail and wiggle and spin round and round without looking like a mad badger.
I would go as far to say that Faye even made it look.. cool.
*This is not a real award.
It was invented for me.
As a joke.
I do a lot of being loud and singing, but dancing is a (family) failing.
I blame my parents. They should have been pushy parents and sent me to dance classes. Although I probably wouldn't have appreciated the scraped-back-high-side-pony-french-plaits-with-a-scrunchy look.
To give them their due, they may have sent me to ballet. But unfortunately, I never got past the 'good toes, naughty toes' stage.
I also blame my sister. Or possibly Faye. One of them must have told me at a birthday party when we were little and dancing to The Birdie Song, that jumping up and down vertically did not constitute dancing. Clearly this has scarred me for life.
When I dance , I am wild.
In fact, I take it all back. I can dance.
I just dance like a loon on loon tablets.
I redeemed myself one year when I was cast AS A DANCER (or rather a dancing wood) in Into the Woods. In the call-back audition, I remember everybody whipped out their ballet shoes and I looked a bit sheepish and just did it in bare feet. I was not elegant. But lo a nd behold, I was cast. AND I went on to receive the Darcy Bussell Award for Achievement in Ballet*.
This dancing was put to good use when the group were invited to watch a Rajasthani folk dancing troop. Faye and I stealthily snuck in behind a group of school children. Except it wasn't very stealthy as we were the only non-Indians and were about 3 feet taller than everyone (yes, even me). The lead dancer grabbed Faye and in front of all these unsuspecting infants, Faye had to perform a wonderful dance.
Naturally, I wet myself laughing.
That is, until the next song began. And it was my turn.
I think I found my niche. It is possible to flail and wiggle and spin round and round without looking like a mad badger.
I would go as far to say that Faye even made it look.. cool.
It was invented for me.
As a joke.
No comments:
Post a Comment