I hate when something ruins my self-perception and subsequently my self-esteem. Some context.
Ok, in my head, I am the most amazing hip-hop dancer ever. Like amazing amazing. Mary Mary comes on the radio and I’m all over it. TobyMac? Yes sir, I’ve got me some moves.
This is what it plays out like in my head.
Song plays. Get a little rhythm going. Start small, nothing big. Implement shoulder move. End with wrist flick. Get the hips and feet involved. Lots of coordination and twists happening. Uh-oh, here it comes. Wiggle, wiggle, shake, shake. Wiggle, wiggle, shake, shake. Coy look? Done. Here she comes. Sara in the dance circle. Go, Sara! Go, Sara!
(I’m so sad I’m not joking right now.)
So, all these years I’ve been completely confident in my mental dance abilities, just waiting for the chance to blossom like a beautiful Lecrae pear tree.
Travel back with me to two months ago. Friend’s bachelorette party. Her sister has a great idea to do an Oula class. No idea what Oula is, but it’s dancing, what’s not to love, yes? I meet up with my old and soon-to-be friends with nary a doubt in my mind that I’ve so got this. Well, it turns out Oula…
offers the perfect balance between the ‘hip’ and the ‘hippy’ with it’s structured, easy to follow, fun choreography while at the same time encouraging self-expression and freedom of movement.
(Think Justin Timberlake, Justin Bieber, and Britney Spears together, reunited, in one place.)
Get out the shearers, folks. This pear tree’s about to explode.
So. First song plays and I’m having a hard time keeping up and catching the rhythm, but that’s ok, I’m just warming up. I’ve just come from a 4 hour drive, I need a little refresher course. By the third song there is no doubt in my mind I am the biggest goober gooberhead to ever walk the face of the earth. Who the heck hi-jacked my imagination and convinced me that I know how to dance hip-hop or anything else for that matter?
Every time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror that took up an entire wall I was horrified. I literally thought to myself, I just thought I was so much cooler than this!
I’ve been duped! All these years of driving in my car and thinking that they just don’t know. They just don’t know the moves I can do!
(Again, I’m so sad I’m not joking.)
Thus, I’m reconciling with Reality. My self-esteem is healing, slowly but surely. My dream of dancing back-up for Justin Bieber (not even lying) is just a dream after all.