You must find Oscar. . .
I was watching a DVD my parents sent me of my sister in the local Queen of Queens Pageant. During the Q&A section, they asked her how long she’s been into singing, to which Liz responded she had loved singing since an early age. Seemed an easy answer to give. Personally, I think a lot these days about what I was passionate about as a kid. I’m trying to tease apart that “what should I do with my life” knot, you know? What did I used to love doing, before I thought about what would make me money or make my parent’s friends envious. I’ve been told my plan was to be a scientist and own a Mexican restaurant. I recall also wanting to be a singer or dancer, and (after Silence of the Lambs) an FBI agent.
Of course, the sticky truth seems to be that finding a job with all the things you love is damn hard. I would love a job where I got to design visual aids and find fun ways to spin a concept or help people understand it, a job that let me travel, but that also had a day-to-day routine like maybe a little paperwork. But then I also like making things. Some days I wish my job was about crafting things that I could see at the end of the day: visible progress.
But now I’ve veered off topic, as usual.
I always loved to dance. I quite ballet because the girls had gotten snobby, and I was getting too tall. I was the kind of girl who was constantly doing dance solos in my room with the door locked, all the way through early college. Then I started living with a guy, so it seemed a little weird to lock the door to the bedroom we shared. Dancing got low priority.
And then, after the big break-up, there was this hot guy in our group of friends who liked ballroom dancing. Do you see where this is going? Someone else who loved dancing.
I decided earlier this year that I needed to get back to dancing just for me. I know, it reeks of that “I need to learn more about meeeee” American woman BS, but oh well. I decided to take Beginning Belly Dance through UW. My fear was that it would be packed full of lithe undergrads who would pick everything up immediately and look far better doing it.
Fortunately, when I walked into the room yesterday, it was mostly ladies my age or older. Unfortunately, most of them were in pairs—it was clear they had agreed to go take the class together—so that made socialization hard on day one. But everyone laughed and it was an awesome first class. All those crazy isolations and gyrations felt good. My least favorite part of me is my midsection—always has been—so I’m happy to find a reason to enjoy it finally.
The hardest part is keeping your lower abdomen tucked in a little the whole time. We have to pretend that we are carrying a shallow fishbowl in there, with a fish named Oscar in it. “Check your Oscar!” the teacher will call out. So I try to keep the imaginary fish in my belly, and shimmy away as best I can!
Next week there will be hip scarves for sale. I’m hoping to pick up the loudest, most jingle-y one there.
2 Comments:
Amber! I HAD A FISH NAMED OSCAR!!!!
AWESOME! I guess it would be even easier for you to keep Oscar in the fishbowl--I forget sometimes!
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