tiny dancer.

Growing up I fancied myself a dancer. I spent hours daydreaming about ballet, imaging myself performing emotional routines that brought people to tears.

There was one small problem: I really can't dance.

Like, at all.

I was usually in the back row, despite being one of the shorter dancers in my classes. If the instructor did put me in front, I was usually off the side. One year I was in the curtains.

I wish I was making that up but no: during rehearsals the teacher gently guided me so I was dancing in the curtains. Occasionally an arm or a leg would peak out but that was it. My actual position was in the curtains. Not just the back row. The curtains. For the whole dance.

Somehow that did not dampen my spirit for dance. I'm not sure how it didn't completely discourage me but it didn't. I kept dancing for several more years with the same amount of passion as before the curtain incident.

My parents were supportive to my face but were rather embarrassed when I took the stage. They spent a lot of recitals laughing at things that weren't meant to be funny. There were very few physical activities I was any good at or enjoyed and they certainly weren't about to eliminate one of the few things I did like, even if I was terrible at it.

To be fair, I always sort of knew I was a terrible dancer.

Super sweet skills, super sweet glasses.

My sister was an amazing dancer. She was just one of those people that was born dancing, shimmying through the house constantly and ever-so-happy while doing it. I am not the most self aware person on this planet but I was self-aware enough to realize that Kara was advancing significantly faster than I was. Despite being 4 years younger than me, she was en pointe before I ever was.

Kara, killing it.

Okay so I never made it that far. Eventually I found another physical activity that I liked more and that I was actually pretty decent at. My parents went from please don't figure out that's my kid to look at my kid killing it out there.

I quit dancing shortly after taking up riding and I never looked back.

That may not be entirely true. I still occasionally daydream about dancing.

But let's be real, I'm not going to be a dancer. I lack pretty much every characteristic required: I have no grace or rhythm. I have limited coordination. My balance is sadly lacking. Where my body is in relation to other things is a bit of a mystery still. Plus much like Derek Zoolander, I am not an ambi-turner. Okay fine. I'm not much of a turner at all. For some reason I have never been able to figure out which way I'm meant to turn. A friend and I bought Groupons for pole dancing classes the summer after we graduated from law school. Somehow, every time the instructor told me to turn right I turned left and vice versa. Sadly I spent a minute thinking about it to make sure I turned the right away and still managed to get it wrong while also managing to fall behind everyone else.

I'm okay with all of that. I've built some degree of coordination and spacial awareness through yoga. Rhythm still eludes me though and probably always will. As it turns out, not everyone is good at everything.

Instead, I think I'm going to stick to dancing only at weddings or similar events after a few drinks.

That's probably best for everyone.