Thursday, January 26, 2012

dance of the Hippo. on ageing disgracefully

I know I should probably feel proud, but in all honesty, I can’t even bring myself to look at my reflection in the mirror.

After  more than 20 years, (you do the math,) I’ve gone back to taking modern dance lessons.

The last time I saw myself reflected on the mirror attempting to follow a choreography I was over 20 years younger, prettier, thinner, stronger... After class #1 all I wanted to do was bury myself in denial and  alcohol, but the doctor won't let me have any alcohol (more on that later), and without it denial seems highly ineffective.

The teacher is young and pretty. Skinny and regal as the bare trees in winter. Hell, the woman has  a  British accent for gawd's sake.

It's an adult's class so most are  youngish girls, you know, early thirties. A  couple are on my boat, you know, the one that already sailed. And there we are, strutting our stuff (more like jiggling it really).

 ...and all I could think about was Disney’s dancing hippos on the movie Fantasia....

There was a little part of me during  class #2  that started getting into the groove. My body no longer felt like a strangers or like it had been kept in  ice. My arms responded and my legs were somewhat willing to lift me from the floor without me having to get on all fours. I was able to let it go a little and blend with the music…  I even dared to go as far as peeking into the mirror, and there I was, a proud dancing hippo. 

I know I should probably feel proud. I know it is good for the mind to keep trying  new things, healthy to challenge your body in new ways, but what can I say, it's sh*t for my self esteem, and it's making me aware of how OLD I am in a very undeniable way.