I love to dance, though I am not especially good. Well, actually, I am not good at all. When I was a senior in high school, my greatest pleasure was my ballet class. There were four of us girls who went to ballet class on the military base near our homes. I was the driver, and loved that class and the girls with whom I danced. One of us was a gifted dancer, and I was just a hacker. At the time of our recital, I got to put on a long white, flowy, net dress, a crown of flowers on my head, and dance… in the back row.
North Carolina has a state dance. Well, Arizona has a state necktie, so I guess North Carolina can have a state dance. It is called the “Shag.” That word doesn’t mean here, what it does in England and Australia. When I was in school, it was called the “Bop.” I don’t do that very well either, but when I do, and when on the rare occasion that I have a partner who is a good leader, I can bop.
Unfortunately, I’ve never had the inhibitions to dance as if no one was looking. The other day, though, I was listening to my playlist, and a song came on that made me just move. I found myself pushing the repeat button and dancing around my kitchen. It felt wonderful! I wiggled my hips. I shuffled my feet. I pumped my arms, and I just danced. And danced. And danced.
Then I noticed that it was coming dark out, and my shades were up, and anyone who drove down my street could see into my tiny house, and could see me dancing. You know what I thought?
“Piss on it.”
And I danced as if no one was looking.