Dance Fever

I was supposed to be a dancer. Deep inside of me, next to the skinny woman, is a dancer screaming to get out. When I was about 7, I used to watch Lawrence Welk at my grandma's. I would put on my slip, rub Dippity Do into my hair for glamor, and tie a couple of Ma's silk scarves around my wrists. Then I'd enter the living room, prepared to dance with Bobby and Cissy and the rest of the Champagne Orchestra. My uncle Mike was 16 at the time, and not at all impressed with my graceful twirls in front of the TV. (What was a 16-year-old boy doing at home on a Saturday night watching Lawrence Welk anyway?!) He would yell at me to knock it off, occasionally swat me, and my grandma would tell him to leave me alone. I'd trail my scarves across his face and continue the performance.
My sisters and I used to gallop around the Legion Hall at wedding dances, thinking we were doing the polka. We improved with age, but by high school I was more into slow dancing with boys. College brought me into the disco era, and I embraced it enthusiastically, usually fueled by a few bravery drinks. I had Saturday Night Fever, and my dancing dreams were Stayin' Alive, though more than once I ended up on the floor from too much spinning and moves never made before. I tried more than once to take ballroom dancing classes for my phy ed requirements, but they were always full. After I started teaching, the only dance memory I have is doing a solo performance to "Wipeout" after the union Christmas party. Of course there is dancing involved in my "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" routines, but those are more about the singing, my other God-given talent.
Now I watch "Dancing with the Stars" and wish I were out there doing the salsa, the jive, and the mambo. I would never have the guts to do what those celebrities attempt on national TV, but if I had my own professional dance instructor I would learn all those dances, teach Fred, and drag him out dancing on weekends. Since that scenario is unlikely, I'm going to see if there is a Dancing with the Stars exercise DVD. That might satisfy my inner dancer AND help the skinny woman next to her. Cha cha cha!