Frivolous though it may sound, especially for a retired librarian, I love to dance. I always have. In my Walter Mitty life, I would have been a ballerina. (But in my real one, I had to take piano lessons instead.) I love all types of dance and as an adult, was lucky enough to find an exercise program that allowed me to “live the dream.” For over thirty years, choreographed dance has worked each and every muscle and kept me fit and healthy. And beyond that, it has given me joy; the kind of joy derived from expression of movement that has become almost as important as the air that I breathe. Not knowing if I’m allowed to mention it specifically, let’s just say it’s a program that rhymes with “Razzercise” and it’s rocked my world for decades. Only when I can no longer chasse and plie, will I allow them to carry my cold and broken body off the studio floor.
There is an interesting twist to being exposed to contemporary music and dance on a regular basis. Top 20 hits are the norm. From Rihanna to Ed Sheeran to Pitbull, to Pink, we work out to their music … and we inadvertently absorb the words to their songs! Now it’s “interesting” enough for ladies in their sixties to even know who Usher and Pitbull are, but we know their song lyrics. I don’t know how my counterparts in exercise feel, but I’m often a little embarrassed by the fact that I know this stuff. Maybe when the kids were younger, you could admit this and get away with being the “cool mom.” But there’s a fine line between being “cool” and being “creepy.” And when you model yourself as a conventional mom, often-quoted saying, “I’m not your friend, I’m your mother,” cool isn’t even an option. And now, when your sixty-something non-exercise peers say things like “Who the heck is Fergie” and you know that she’s lead singer for the Black Eyed Peas, it’s disconcerting. Mostly, I try not to talk about it. You can love the choreography and the workout, but at my age, “Don’t Cha” by the Pussycat Dolls is a bit much in terms of lyrics. Let’s just say that while 40 years ago it might have made my play list, today it just makes me feel foolish.
Well, I’ve developed a strategy that will allow me to dance forever and maintain my aging dignity as well. For those of you who share my passion as well as my neurosis, here’ s how it works. It’s very simple. You pretend you can’t hear the lyrics. You never let on you know the words or even the artist. Rest assured, you are allowed to sing along but only to those songs that strike your fancy and feel right. You’re even allowed to sing along to those “earworms” that get into your head and live there for days. Even if some of them sound silly, it feels so good to move to them. But the ones that make you feel “creepy?” Just focus on the melody and if questioned, mention your failing sense of hearing and your dimming ability of recall. Taylor Who? Bruno What? “…don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me…” isn’t that a song about hot flashes?
It has taken me a long time to arrive at this comfortable place. I didn’t know how to behave when my kids were teenagers. I would be a rich woman if I had a nickel for every eye-rolling incident in my house when the kids lived at home and played their favorite music. I might sing along, admitting that it was another “Razzercise” song, while they looked at me disdainfully. Everything is a “Razzercise” song, they would retort with more than a little disgust. The most memorable birthday card is one received from my now adult daughter which depicted a little girl covering her eyes and saying…Don’t tell me – she’s dancing again.
Bottom line: Ideally, music and dance should never be about age. If a song moves the spirit, seize the moment. Do whatever you have to do in order to continue dancing. With the proper strategy in place, you can dance forever – and with wild abandon!
