tales of a former dancer part 1

It's insanely appropriate that Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger" is playing on the radio right now as I regale you with my tales of all things dance. I'm feeling all inspired, maybe I should go find some stairs to conquer first....
Ok! I'm back....Just kidding, like my fat ass would go scale some stairs with out someone holding a gun to my head, right?

But I digress.....

I used to dance.  Now if you say that around here (aka Vegas) people seriously think one thing, no, I was never a stripper, (though I did consider it a few times, sorry mom and dad.) I mean ballet, jazz, modern. The real kind of dancing. 

In my day I did all things art related, theater, singing, painting, sculpting ect...but my artistic forte was definitely dancing. 

I danced for a little while when I was around 5 or 6 at a community center, but apparently that stage was way too small for a little star such as myself and I decided to quit.  I picked it back up in high school, and while I wasn't particularly good at that point I sure thought I was.  I had no formal training except for a few random things put on by the school. But my sophomore year in high school I managed to make it onto the high school dance team. So naturally I thought I was hot sh*t. 

The day before our first football game, and first performance, I was at a church youth function with one of my good friends, and naturally there were cute boys there too.  I had just learned about grand jete's (pardon the lack of accent's there) so I figured I would show off to these boys my crazy awesome dance skills and super high jumps.  Now never before or since have I EVER fallen on landing a jump, but this time? BAM!! I landed wrong, and hard, and rolled my ankle.  Way to go dipshit.  But me being the badass that I am, pretended that it was nothing.  Ha ha! I'm cute and kind of gravity-challenged! Notice me!

The next day, the day of the big first football game/first performance, I got out of bed for school and collapsed into a heap on the floor.  Couldn't walk on that ankle. At all.  Shit balls.  So my mom made me an apt to see a doc right away, where my ankle was x-rayed and later presumed un-broken, but badly sprained.  I was told to stay off it for at least a week.  Psh, ya right.  I was so not screwing my team over for a measly ankle.  I performed that night at the football game, ankle tightly wrapped, happily smiling in the front row, displaying all my star power to the world. Ok maybe not quite like that, but I still rocked that football game.

Years later, every now and then that ankle still bothers me somethin' fierce!  Guess I should have stayed off it right? But that is how I received my first dance injury.

Badasses to the core, I mean look at those headbands? This is proof of two things, that 1) I am  naturally blond and 2) Andrea at crazy with a side of awesomesauce and I have been besties for a long ass time. Seriously, ask her about band camp, or about a cold September night behind Albertsons.  Good times man, good times.

dance on