I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing. All I know is that I have to do something or I am going to lose my mind. Life said, “Would you like to come to a party?”, and I said, “Yes.” You see, I have received this invitation a million times before. Usually, my answer is, “Let me think about it.” or “I’m going to see if I can make it.” I would have to know every detail before making my final decision: time, place, attire, occasion, attendees, etc. But not this time. I’m at the point where I can’t wait around for the perfect moment or the most amazing outfit or a confirmed babysitter. I’m just going to accept the invitation and trust that everything else will fall into place.
The thing that I am most concerned about is the dancing. Ever since a traumatic experience at a middle school dance, I have had this debilitating fear of dancing. I’m pretty amazing in front of my bedroom mirror, but the moment I am in the midst of real people I freeze. My arms get stuck in an awkward, kangaroo like position, and I can only manage to do the infamous side to side sway I mastered during my days in the church youth choir. The two-step is my safety dance. Any time. Any place. Any song. Mostly, I watch. I sit with my cookies and punch and watch and smile and pretend that I’m okay with watching, but the older I get, the less fun watching becomes.
Lately, I’ve been longing to dance. I’m yearning to unleash the woman who does not care if she looks like she is suffering from convulsions on the dance floor. I just want to dance. Not just on the dance floor, but in every aspect of my life. I’m finally tired of being a spectator.
So, here goes nothing. Welcome to my blog: The Evolution of Two-Step Tammy. Oh my!