Daily life

Dancing in my kitchen alone

So I talked a little bit ago about how the only exercise I really liked was walking but I misspoke. I used to love to dance. When I was younger and single, I used to go bar-hopping — not to drink but to dance. I was way into country music back in the nineties and early aughts and I absolutely LOVED to country dance. Both partner dancing and line dancing and it was hugely aerobic and probably one of the reasons why I kept the original 60 pounds I lost off for so long. Life changes, music changes, and I stopped being young and single. Well, my kids came to live with me is what happened — they had been living with their dad since we divorced — so no more bar-hopping and thence, no more dancing. At least no more country dancing. I totally don’t blame the kids for that, y’all; it’s just the way life goes. So I found other kinds of exercise, walking mostly. But I kind of miss dancing. The kids and I would dance around the house, and that was cool. It wasn’t country dancing, but it was dancing. And eventually I guess as the kids moved out of the house I just… stopped dancing. Stopped listening to music regularly too, which is weird. I love music. Maybe I’ve been low-key depressed on and off all these years and just never realized it. Maybe, I dunno. It’s possible. I just kind of came to the realization that I haven’t danced in years. Like… years. Not since my wedding.

little girl with long hair and a tutu dancing in a meadow of daisies.
Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

Like a lot of men from my time, Doug doesn’t dance, dear reader. He listens to his music and TV through headphones for some reason, so our house is quiet. It’s a little disconcerting for me. I’m used to a house filled with television, music, and talking. After all, I had four kids and I come from a family of five kids. In both cases, ours was the house full of kids and friends. There as always noise. Even though I’m an introvert and comfortable with my own company, I usually have background noise. To sit all day with someone else in the house and have it be so… quiet is unnerving. He and I have talked about it, and he likes quiet. It’s what he’s used to. It’s difficult to find a compromise between quiet and noisy. I don’t do headphones very often because of my hypervigilance. But I digress. I was talking about dancing. The other day I woke up with a song in my head — Linkin Park’s In the End. I haven’t heard that song in a long time. My kids loved Linkin Park and I really liked their songs too. I looked up the song on YouTube and kinda started jammin’ in my chair to the whole album. It was kind of freeing. So anyway, that got me thinking: If I can’t walk, I can dance. I mean, nothing’s stopping me. I have all of room in my house, so I might as well use it. I don’t need shoes or special clothes to do it. And I can start and stop whenever I like. Which is kind of what I did. I popped my breakfast in the oven this morning and danced for the whole sixteen minutes it needed to cook. It’s not, like, thirty minutes of dedicated aerobic exercise, but it’s a beginning. Right? And it’s something I enjoy, so I’ll probably keep doing it.

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