Being five was great. Everything in the world was possible and no one laughed at your dreams, well, maybe a little but hopefully more of a giggle than a snide snicker. I wanted to be a hairdresser and also a ballerina. I also wanted six kids, three boys and three girls and have a house like the Brady Bunch. Oddly enough, we eventually moved into a neighborhood with Brady Bunch style ranch houses that I giggle at whenever I see them.
My poor Mom used to let me play with her hair relentlessly and I did so in a tutu. My Gram got me a pink tutu for Christmas when I was three and I crammed my skinny but tall figure into that thing for years until the seams finally prevented me from donning the garb. It might have been life’s way of saying, “give up kid, you’re clearly too clumsy to be a ballerina, time to pack this thing away”. I was probably ten. The netting was so incredibly scratchy and nothing about this outfit was soft or comfortable like the ones I see little girls wear today. I’m not bitter, I’m just saying I might have succeeded in a more comfortable tutu. No? Did I stretch the excuse too far?
I did take ballet when I was about seven. It lasted for a few months or however long a standard class session is. It was really hard for me because I’m uncoordinated and I had my Dad’s rhythm. I felt like it would be so easy, after all, I’d already mastered all the dance moves from Dirty Dancing in my living room. How hard could a few little ballerina moves be? Apparently hard; for me anyway. The class was tied in with tap dancing and that seemed like a plausible career too because I’d seen Gregory Hines do it on Sesame Street and it looked easy. The only place that wasn’t carpeted in our house was our tiny 10×10 kitchen and since you can’t wear your tap shoes on concrete (or so I was told) so I didn’t get much practice time outside either.
I’m not too sure why I never pursued hairstyling except that maybe doing my own hair didn’t turn out too well and that phase just died out. I did dye my own hair and sometimes chop at it during my teenage years, but that was because I couldn’t afford to get it done anywhere but my bathroom. My Mom never stopped me from playing with her hair though because she said it felt nice and I still dance in front of the TV to be goofy. I do more of a high kick strut with a fake cane and top hat as I pass through the living room now. My husband will usually give me a pity snicker and wait for me to move but my parents really get a kick out of it when I visit. It seems the living room will always be my grand stage because I’m embarrassed to dance anywhere else; except at weddings after a few Jameson and cranberries. And no, I don’t want to see the video of it afterwards, even if I look like I have full confidence; that is temporary.
What did you want to be?