I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. I’ve been feeling pretty unhappy and disgruntled with myself. I’ve gained weight, haven’t had my hair cut since November and haven’t had it highlighted since this summer. To sum it up I have forgotten to take care of myself. In all my running around to take care of Shorty and Big I often forget that I matter too.
I’ve been feeling like there is something missing from my life. Something that I used to have but now no longer do, but I couldn’t put my finger on it until just a few days ago. In all my pondering about how I could lose weight and get back in shape even though I hate traditional forms of exercise and I love food way too much, I realized that there was something I used to do that made me look good, feel good, and helped relieve stress. It’s something that I haven’t done in so long but that I finally realized I miss.
I used to crank up the music every day and dance. I am pretty sure I can say that when I was in my teens and twenties there was not a day (okay maybe a few, but not many) where I didn’t spend at least an hour or more with the music blaring and my feet moving. It was what I did when I wanted to be alone but I didn’t feel like reading. I would close my bedroom door and dance. I mean really let go. I didn’t care if what I was doing looked good or stupid. I didn’t care if I got sweaty. I could do it in my pjs, sweats, jeans, and in my work clothes.
I danced to pop, rock, hip-hop, r&B, rap, country, Motown, doo wop; if it had a beat I danced to it. I danced until all the stress I had in me was gone. I danced to forget about the bad days and to celebrate the good days. I danced and I danced and I danced. I swear all that dancing and hip moving helped keep me in shape and in a size two or smaller.
So, when did the dancing stop? If I look back I think it stopped shortly after I met Big. We moved in together pretty quickly after we dated. (Sorry Dad, I know this upset you.) We lived in an apartment. I didn’t want to offend the neighbors with the loud music so I stopped playing it. Big is not a dancer. He doesn’t like a lot of so called dance music. Since I moved in with him, I guess I felt like I had to listen to what he listened to. Even when he traveled I didn’t really dance much.
Now that I’m a mom I rarely listen to loud music for fear it will harm Shorty’s ears and damage his hearing. I have found that when I try to play my old dance music Shorty doesn’t like it and he seems to take after Big in the dancing department. I also don’t have the luxury of time that I had in my pre-married, pre-mom days.
But it has dawned on me that I miss my music and my dancing. I miss being able to get lost in the beat and boogie my troubles away. I miss being the one who decides what songs to play. I miss letting my hips swivel and roll. I miss this part of myself. It brought out the fun side of me. It also sometimes brought out the sexy side. I haven’t felt fun or sexy in awhile.
Every time I complain about the way I look Big offers to watch Shorty so I can exercise. So, I think I’m gonna finally take him up on that offer a few times a week. I think I’m going to use that time to dance my worries and my weight off. What I’ve learned is that I need to find my way back to dancing. I don’t want to join a class. I just want it to be about me. Who cares if I’m doing the moves the right way. The important thing is that I am doing them my way.