I wrote a couple of days ago about seeking pleasure. In the ensuing days I've been keeping a mental list of the things I get pleasure from: talking to people I love, movies, iced coffee on a hot day, spending time with friends, reading, my porch swing, and... yes, dancing in my underwear in my bedroom like I was 13-years-old.
The thing is, I love to dance. Not too many people know this because I'm shy and don't tend to put my moves on display. Couple that with the fact that I don't drink (that liquid uninhibitor) and I'm the girl sitting on the sidelines itching to move - if it's what I like to dance to - wishing I could get past my shyness.
But in my room by myself? I'm a regular JLo and Isadora Duncan rolled into one. I have my repertoire - everything from Coolio and Eminem to Madonna and Katy Perry. It's one of the few times I feel free of any angst and yes, like I'm 13 again.
I wasn't always so shy. At one time I was the first to get up and dance. I've taken lots of dance classes through the years, and as a teen I sat rapt watching the Alvin Ailey dance troupe dreaming I could be them. But then I grew up and self-conscious.
I'm not sure why when we become adults it's harder to let go. I let down with a very select few whom I trust and feel safe with. Maybe that's what it is - as we get older it's harder to not feel judged and safe. When you're young it's easier, the world is your oyster and you're less self-conscious.
Perhaps I'll never be able to pry my white knuckles off the chair I sit glued to when I go out, but trust me, alone in my bedroom? I can dance.
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