dance dyslexia

I am so far out of my comfort zone that I want to cry. No, really, I do. I have rather rashly agreed to do a dance for Hubby's work Deshain (Nepali Xmas equivalent) do. Ho, Ho, I thought, that will be a laugh, forgetting, of course, that dancing requires an element of hand-eye co-ordination and flexibility, neither of which I possess, at all. The dance teacher was really lovely, but it's like I have a kind of 'dance dyslexia'. It just takes me right back to PE at school (except that our fat-bottomed, moustachioed PE teacher wasn't nearly as nice as this Nepali girl). The last time I felt like this was when I was on exercise with the TA. That made me want to cry as well. I always thought that the feeling was down to the bad karma of handling a killing machine, but I now realise that it was just utter frustration with my own physical inadequacies.

However, it does make me even more proud of Twin 2, though, for whom just learning to walk was the equivalent, for her, of learning a very complex Nepali dance.

I'm torn between just grizzing it out, and having a couple of swift drinks on the night to give me courage, or just wimping out right now. I'm not sure if, even with a couple of pegs of whisky inside me, I can face the humiliation!

I am off to sob into my soup now.