I actually hesitated before putting my foot down on that cool sparkly dance floor…
From a very young age, I have classed myself as a dancer.
The hairspray, garish lipstick, sequins, pointy fingers, tan-tastic dance tights- the lot.
During my GCSE years, I felt really sorry for my friends that they hadn’t yet decided what to do with their lives. I, on the other hand had it all figured out; GCSE, A-Levels, a degree in dance & theatre, a couple of years with a dance company travelling the world before starting my own school. What a lucky girl I was.
However, in the first month of AS Level, I contracted some awful pains in my hip and right leg and one morning, woke up to find I could not fully straighten up. Fast forward 9 months of hideousness, doctors appointments, numbness, stabbing pain, wonky spines, no sleep, starinnggg and plenty of tears, a D in my dance A-Level results quickly told me the dream was over.
Although now up-right thanks to a fantastic Osteopath (not the NHS-thanks for nothing), there was simply no way I could dance professionally with such a bloody weak spine (which turned out to be the overall problem.)
Ladies & Gents- It seemed I had something (now known) as Sacroiliac Joint Dysfunction.
F**K you world!
For a while, I was a very miserable girl about the condition. I was mad at the world and ‘life isn’t fair’ just did not cut it.
Thankfully, like with most things, time was a healer. I’ll always have a slightly dodgy body, but fabulous things (like my degree in Journalism) came out of not pursuing my first chosen path.
I didn’t exactly forget about dance, but the thought of having a go and facing all that pain all over again- well it scared the hell out of me…
…Until last night.
Last night, on my way home from work, I decided to stop being such a pussy.
I knew there was a contemporary dance class starting less than a mile from my flat @ The Gates Centre, Roath.
I got home, I shoved on some leggings, the boy shoved me out the door and I sweat it out walking the whole way there. Stood outside that awesome building (its a renovated church) I felt some very real adrenalin and some very real dryness in my mouth. So I took a gulp from my water bottle, tied back my hair and marched in to that building, on to that wooden floor and right into…. the intermediate class.
23 years old, a graduate… and I hadn’t even read the times properly.
7 years out of it- I was kind of aiming to start slowly and build it back up again.
But oh no. Full on travelling, canons, Cunningham all over the place!
I struggled to keep up, I’d thrown myself around looking like a duck on hallucinogenics and I’d all but given up on trying to look even slightly elegant.
And this morning; I woke up achy, bruised, battered, with skimmed knees and sore feet.
But I woke up in an absolutely glorious mood.
It’s going to take some time to get back in shape but there’s a whole term for that 🙂
So up yours SJD. Nothings stopping these feet now!
Wales first... then the world 