Tales of a former dancer part 3

My husband loves to watch So You Think You Can Dance. Once apon a time, I did too. Before I retired from my life as a dancer, I had ambitions. Lots of them.  I was dancing at UNLV, finally getting to a place in my dancing where I felt I was ready to put myself out there in the real world, and Las Vegas has lots of opportunities for dancers with talent ranging from mediocre to advanced. The plan was to finish my degree, with a minor in dance. Because really? Who majors in Dance anyhow? And to audition like crazy. I also wanted to give SYTYCD a go as well.  Now, by no means did I ever think I was good enough to make it to the top 20, but I did think I might have made it past the choreography round. Maybe. I felt it would have just been an amazing experience, and a chance to dance with Mia Michaels? I'd cut off my feet for that (but then I wouldn't be able to dance...I didn't think it through very much I guess.) But life had other plans for my dancing career.

In my second year at UNLV, I managed to get into an upper division ballet class. And it was hard yo. And I've done point (and  kind of sucked at it I may add) But it was a perfect challenge for me, dancing with girls who had been doing this since they could walk was a great push for me to work all that much harder. I had less than half the years of experience they did, but I shined like a new penny. Then two things happened that ended my career. About a third into the semester, I tore the heck out of my hamstring, and you don't ballet with a torn hamstring. But at the time, it wasn't such a big deal to me because I had just gotten engaged during the summer and was planning on bailing out on Vegas anyhow. So long hopes and dreams! People do dumb things when they are in love. So I dropped my beloved ballet class. And most of my other classes as well and moved to California in December. And lived happily ever after, for the most part.

But I stopped watching that show. Because there's this part of me that still wonders what might have been if I had gone ahead and stayed. Had I not injured myself, had I been more focused and less in a love induced fog. And it makes me miss dancing something fierce. Movement stirs within my soul and it always will. I can hear the tune of the city streets and I'll want to burst out dancing. Dancing is that one thing for me that I am good at and that one thing that I would love to do forever, but now I'm too old, too fat and too scared to go back to that world, so I shut it out. Box up those memories and shoes and save them for a rainy day. Or for a little girl who may just share her mommy's passion for dance.

But my husband, he loves that damn show. He's starting to develop an eye for talent. Some dance culture if you will. But the only time he'll ever see his wife dance is in old videos of recitals from years ago.

I'll probably never dance again.

But who knows. I have been thinking really hard about making a come back...