The Truth About Dance... And Some Other Stuff.

Every Tuesday night, when my Daughter gets home from dance... we watch the show "Dance Moms". I watch it, only because, my kid wants to. (I swear it's not because I'm inappropriately obsessed with how a morbidly obese woman, who can barely get around, has such a talented team that actually pay her to treat them like crap... And.. Her voice? It is like... a dying seal... with an attitude. I hate her.) I'm not sure how to reiterate how bizarre that show is to me. My Daughter has been involved in competition dance for 5 years now, and it is a huge part of our lives... whether we want it to be or not. Dance, like any other sport/activity, is extremely time consuming, and an entity all its own. Shows like "Dance Moms" have given it a bad wrap.... and it kinda bugs. I'm actually kind of pissed that they portray dance in such a way that makes people secretly, and behind my back, ridicule and judge me. If that was really what it was like, and Abby Lee was yelling her fat ass off at my kid... mark my words... my kid would play some other sport. A sport that would take up JUST as much time, energy and money as dance... but that she wouldn't dig nearly as much. I feel like I have spent the last 5 years justifying her activity of choice, and I'm just... over it. Yes, she wears stage makeup. Yes, her costumes are vaguely 'baby stripper' like, sometimes. And... we have weekend long competitions. So what? It's not your kid. I don't judge you because your kid chases a ball around a soccer field, in 90 degree weather, until they pass out, or have a severe sunburn. I also don't judge parents who let their prepubescent sons... wear a wrestling get up... and roll around with other boys on a mat. I have a girlfriend whose son wrestles. She would rather have him wear some of my daughter's costumes, than that skin tight, all revealing, accidental boner showing off, suit. She told me so. I'm a hairstylist. It is not out of the realm of normalcy that my kid would be dolled up, and shakin' her booty.  :)

My Daughter is obsessed with 3 things... Dance, gymnastics, and Justin Bieber. And when I say obsessed, I mean... obsessed. She is not the kid who plays soccer or softball. Those things would never interest her. Hockey, to her, is a 'boy sport'. It requires profuse sweating, acne, pushing, spinal injuries.... and bad hair. She likes to go to her brother's hockey games... drink hot chocolate and cheer him on. (I'd be lying if I said she doesn't enjoy running around and flirting with all the boys that are off the ice as well. She's 10 and related to me. I passed that down vaginally, I think. I'll deal with that some other time...) He does the same for her. Just like any other Brother/Sister team... they are supportive of each other's choices. She thinks hockey is dumb... he would never dance. Isn't that why you teach your kids to follow their dreams? It's up to them to decide what makes them happy? Justin Bieber is coming between them more than anything right now, actually. My daughter has a bedroom covered in Biebs pictures, posters, calendars etc... and an ipod full of his music, that she blares regularly. My Son has a sign on his door that says "Jutsin Beebre Is the werst". She hates it. :) He has an ipod full of pictures and videos of his sister... doing various, impressive tricks and dance moves. Just not to Bieber tunes...

Like everyone else, who has given me shit for years, I wasn't completely educated on what I was getting into with the whole Competition Dance thing. I just knew that it had to be better than rec dance. She started with rec, and it was just not the right fit. The recital, albeit cute, was almost embarrassing. There were girls standing there, picking tights out of their crotches, feverishly looking for Mom and Dad in the audience, and having no clue what steps they were supposed to be doing. It was adorably disastrous. When our girls' "On the Good Ship Lollipop" was over... out came the competition girls, their same ages. I was blown away by the difference. In fact, you should have seen my jaw drop. They were GOOD! No crotch pickers, and completely on point. They were 5 and 6. What?! That's what I'm talking about. We signed her up the very next week. She had never gone through an audition process before, and it was surprisingly brutal and emotional for her. It made it a bit easier that her best friend was also auditioning... everything is better in a pair. (Another vaginal trait from me, I guess.) :) She made a team, and off we went... into completely foreign territory.

I was not expecting how much it would change her. (Or me... I now know what glue will hold anything imaginable, and the best websites to order bulk feathers and rhinestones... who knew?) Before she was a dancer, she was a bit shy. She made friends easily, but was shy. All of the sudden, I had this out going, confident, hard working little girl... who was passionate and proud about something! Something she chose to do, and was really enjoying! She isn't the world's best dancer. She will never be the winner of "So You Think You Can Dance"... but she loves it. Passionately. It makes her happy. The competitions, themselves, were a lot less 'competitive' than I thought they would be too. All of the girls... from all of the schools... cheer each other on, and genuinely enjoy seeing really good dances. Regardless from which studio they originated. It's a sense of camaraderie that you don't see very often. Same goes for the 'Dance Moms'. We pass each other in the hall, and even though we have never met...  we know exactly what each other are going through. I know you spent 7 hours stoning that costume. I know you know... I did too. I know, that you know, that makeup on a 10 year old is incessantly judged... and Jimmy cracks corn. We also both know that, the minute our kid gets on that stage, and the music starts... we hold our breath, get goose bumps... and cry a little bit. (And dig in our purses... so nobody sees it...) We are proud. And there is nothing better than that feeling. Being proud of your kid. They work hard all year, and give up their friends' birthday parties, and school carnivals... to perfect their dances. The level of pride that they, as dancers, feel, is even too much for this sappy Mom to handle! :) The intense energy at awards is a feeling all its own, as well. Getting the ever coveted 'Platinum' for a dance... is just what the doctor ordered for these girls... who are pooped out after  along day... and want to be recognized for their efforts. It's exciting. For all of us who invested.

I'm not saying that every little girl should dance. It isn't the right thing for a lot of families. And I understand people's concern when I post a picture to facebook, of my kid, wearing makeup and booty shorts. I'm clearly pimping her out. (?) I just don't understand the judgement factor. Her teammates are some of her best friends. They all go to other schools, and come from different cities. When she has had a bad day at school... she can go to dance, whine to one of her dance girlfriends, get a whole bunch of "Who cares. You are AWESOME"s, and all is forgotten. They are so supportive to each other. It's touching, actually. Nobody else understands what they do. They hear (And read on facebook) the rude comments about their costumes, and what their faces and hair look like. It is digested by them. My Daughter has asked me on several occasions if people think it's wrong that she dances. That kind of sucks a little bit. She is proud of what she does, and it isn't fair to have to suck that up when you are 10. She wears more than any swimmer... or... wrestler does. :)

Dance, among other things, has taught her confidence, discipline and friendship. She could get up in front of a room full of people... and speak. That is more than I can say for many adults I know. She knows what it is like to win... and lose. She handles disappointment better than I do. She doesn't have body issues... there are all sorts of body types on her team... and they are all normal to her. I think it has been one of the best decisions we have ever made. It will keep her out of trouble too... which, when you are coming from my and my Husband's stock... is never a bad thing. :) She gets to spend Friday nights with her Daddy... doing Dads and Daughters. (He finally caved... when all she wanted for Christmas was to do just that...) That has been amazing for them. They are best friends... and I love it! As long as she continues to look forward to dance, I will continue to support her. How could I not? Every minute of her time is spent tapping in the kitchen, flipping in the hallway and yard, doing open turns in the basement, and making up dances to the Biebs' songs. :) It's cute.

Lastly... will the real dance moms please stand up? :) I, personally, have also gotten a lot out of her dance. I got the moms. These women have been so much a part of my life, I can't tell you how much they have impacted us. There is a bond with us as well. We work together all year, put up with judgmental family and friends, spend countless hours planning and stoning costumes, shoes and organizing outings. We lean on each other for advice and encouragement, and sneak wine into the dressing rooms... in case one of us needs it. :) When my Son got hit by a car on his bike last Fall... the first 5 people who called, stopped by, and dropped off survival goodies... were all Dance Moms. That is what we do for each other. They picked up and dropped off my daughter for dance for 2 weeks. They made my son cards and sent get well wishes. It meant so much. When my Mother In Law was diagnosed with Breast Cancer last Summer... I got countless emails and calls making sure we didn't need anything, and checking on her progress. These women are some of the coolest women I know. We know what is going on in each others families. We travel together, and I see them more than anyone else for 3 months straight. I have girlfriends... but having the Dance Moms is an added bonus. Some of them will be life long friends of mine. Same goes for our Daughters.

So, I guess... next time you watch "Dance Moms" and think that is real... or you think that I'm weird for letting my kid wear makeup, or a costume you think is inappropriate, etc... just remember... I am proud of her, and I think she is amazing at what she does. And another reminder... next time there is a swimming meet or wrestling match in your area... watch out for surprise boners! :) Tee hee!!

Sincerely,

My tiny dancer's biggest fan :)

Aging. It's The Pits. Period.

As of late, I have been completely overwhelmed with what is happening to my... well... my everything. I turned 35 this past year, and it has been a vicious, downward spiral ever since. I have never had to worry much about what I looked like. I never put much emphasis on it either, but I'm pretty sure that is because I always thought I was attractive. I mean, we all are in our teens and 20s... right? Even some of our early 30s? (Like, until 32...then you're done.) It's a breeze... Bright eyed (including the whites), smooth, unwrinkled skin, no puffy, under eye madness, and not a grey head or eyebrow hair, or pube to be found.  (Not that I have those dreadful bastards... but I'm sure they are not the 'myth' they used to be.) I look at pictures of my 20-something self, and think "My GOD... I was hot! Why did I think I was so fat, and worry about a bad hair day?" That is usually followed up with a "But... what the hell am I wearing!?!" Seriously... the 90s were not my best dressed era. I wore things like silver jackets that looked like moon man attire, suits, (yes... I said suits.) really short shirts... and wait for it...... overalls. I literally sported overalls like they were necessary. Like I was going to get hand picked for a Bell Biv Devoe video any second... but only if I wore them everywhere I went. With my ballet shoes. Always ballet shoes. (I guess I wasn't concerned with the fact that I'm short?) Wardrobe malfunction, after wardrobe malfunction... bygones. Clothing choices aide, I always had it goin' on. I turned a few heads, and it just didn't matter that much to me.  Cuz it just... was.

I really never have put much emphasis on appearance. I go to the store, school, even parties... with no makeup on, and in my sweats. I am pretty confident nobody could ever call me vain. My Mom told me being pretty is a curse... I ran with that. Who gives a shit? I don't even tell my daughter she is beautiful. Instead I focus on the fact that she is funny, smart and a really good friend. I have had some ishy life experiences that made me that way, and I embrace it. Who really cares what ya look like!? I'm not ugly... right? Until...

A couple of months ago, I happened to look in the rear view mirror in my car. On a sunny, bright, mustache enhancing light, day. It ruined my life. I was amazed/mortified/bewildered by what I saw. Things that had never really been 'my' problem, suddenly have reared their ugly heads. On my FACE! I have wrinkles on my forehead, like Rumpelstiltskin, that I now blame on my really bad sunburn in Mexico... when I was 17. I have a couple of grey hairs, which I blame on my kids and 2011. I have swollen, puffy, dark... business, under my eyes that make me wanna pinch them really hard until they just fall off. I blame those on Allergies and my Mom. I'm starting to develop crow's feet, and those little 'down your cheek smile lines'. I blame those on my Husband and Sister. They make me laugh too much. Don't quote me (Or make fun of me), but I think I'm starting to grow a beard? I'm not sure what to blame that on... but I'm gonna keep searching for something. It hurts my feelings... a lot. I can't hide my 10 extra pounds anymore. I blame that on the fact that that 10 extra pounds, has turned into 30 extra pounds. Good luck hiding that, fatty. :) I have a double chin. God forbid I make the 'kissy face' lips... My mouth, in that formation, is reminiscent of an elderly woman's anus. And that I blame on my years of smoking. While I was checking myself out in that mirror, and trying to breathe... even though my jeans were pretty much disemboweling me under that seat belt... It hit me. (Well... it actually 'hit me' when I made the kissy face, but whatever...) All of the things I blame my 'beauty demise' on are just parts of the problem. The real problem is really simple. All of these terrible things, that have suddenly started, are due to... Me. Being old. (Well... and the smoking.) I'm officially aging. It can't be reversed. I'm fucked. :(

From that day forward, I have neurotically checked everyone's forehead that I have come in contact with. I check their eyes. I try to get a glimpse of their stache in sunlight... but I always end up depressed. Even if you have those terrible things too... it doesn't make me feel better... because I also have them. Yours are just on you. And mine are on me. And I hate it... for both of us. I will think things like "Why do I have to have such bad allergy bags under my eyes? But at least I don't have her smile lines, or that frowny thing in between her eyes." Gross. Who IS this person I have become? I'm not supposed to care what I, or anyone else, looks like!! It's supposed to be irrelevant. Well... I guess the song "You Don't Know What You Got Till It's Gone" has just earned a new place in my heart. Goodbye, young, cute me. Hello older, less attractive, version of me. Me 2.0. I don't know how I feel about her quite yet.

With age comes wisdom. We all know that. With age, also comes a new found love of makeup, and anti-aging creams. It also brings a new found clarity about Botox, lasers, and Plastic surgery. All of the things I mocked, in my more attractive youth. (I now feel like I need to start a savings account, just for those purposes.) I'm sure I have painted a very pretty picture of my state of affairs these days. It probably isn't as bad as I think, (Just go with that, ok?) and it is only gonna get worse, but I can't help but wonder... Is it harder to start the aging process when you have been a 'looker' in your past? Like... something has been ripped away from you... and you miss it? Or... is it harder to start aging when you have never had 'being hot' on your resume? I guess it is what it is. We will all end up as wrinkled, old, prunes... with grey pubes... eventually. I'm just perplexed as to why it took me so long to notice it was happening to me! Denial is a magical thing. :)

I will eventually come to grips with, and accept all of this... (meanwhile, fighting it with everything I have.) :)  In some strange way, I feel sort of ok with some of it. My life hasn't been easy, and I have earned every bit of wisdom and strength these wrinkles and greys bring with them. Life is funny that way. You take so many things for granted, and then look back and think... What just happened? There is no use in sweating the petty. (Or even the Tom Petty, for that matter) Some things are inevitable. Tragic, but inevitable. My Husband and kids think I'm lovely, and that is really what matters. My Mom said to me the other day, "Honey, don't worry so much about aging. Pretty soon you'll be my age, and you won't be able to see. You will look in the mirror, and think you look GREAT!" I love her.

I will never be that 110 pound, little blonde, that walked into a place and turned heads... but I now look at those girls, and know that they, someday, will have learned all of their lessons, and they will hopefully have a lot more money than I do... to spend on Botox. :) Maybe I need to go buy some overalls. Just in case Bell Biv Devoe is looking for a middle aged, Suburban Mom... to push them around the nursing home. :)