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Dancing with the Stars

Okay, I have to admit it. I’m a sucker for any shows or movies that involve dancing. Dirty Dancing? Loved it. No one puts Baby in a corner. Hell, I even liked the bad sequel, Dirty Dancing Havana Nights. Bye Bye Birdie? Yup. Gotta love Janet Leigh and Dick Van Dyke. I even love the recent Gap commercial that’s on right now with Claire Danes and Patrick Wilson where they’re dancing to that Broadway Tune. And of course, my all time favorite, Strictly Ballroom. The list can go on and on. There’s just something about dancing that’s to romantic and so graceful and so controlled that I love.

So, it’s no suprise that I’m totally enjoying the Dancing With the Stars series. I’ve watched it on and off over the past few seasons, but watching the first two episodes of this season has already got me hooked. It certainly does help that it’s got “Cliff” from Cheers (John Ratzenberger), Heather Mills (ex-Mrs. Paul McCartney) with her prosthetic leg, and Apollo Ohno (yum). But seriously? It’s really about the dancing. I found myself smiling every time one of the contestants came out; transfixed on their movements. It looks like so much fun and yet so much work. I want to be able to do that someday.

Of course I’ve got two left feet (okay, the Filipina in me might have more like one and a quarter left feet – I have SOME rhythm, after all) so I’d never be Ballroom Competition-worthy. Also, there’s that “thing” about having to let the man take lead – I’m never good at giving up control. Yet, something about it just makes me want to put on those dance shoes (no, not them Doc Marten boots — this isn’t City Club, after all) and grab the hubby and have him lead me in a quick-step or a fox-trot.

I’ll never be Ginger Rogers, nor will my husband be Fred Astaire. But the feeling I have on the occasions where my husband does grab me and lead me in a slow dance around our living room (and I do relinquish that control) … it leaves my head spinning, my heart thumping, and my face smiling … just like it did tonite while watching Dancing With the Stars.

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Roller Coaster

It’s hard to describe this type of roller coaster ride that I felt like I’ve been on the past ten years. I spend most of my time trying to forget that I’m on it, hoping that if I do actually forget, then the tracks of the roller coaster will eventually bring me to the top of a hill and just stay at a plateau for a while. (Perhaps maybe then I’d be able to get off this ride.) But it seems like every time I hit a peak, I end up free-falling back down at an uncontrollable speed.

And after what seems like a million of free-fall moments, I’ve learned that the best defense against feeling like shit was to pretend that I was okay. (That’s the reason behind me trying to forget that I’m on this stupid roller coaster to begin with.)

I’ve also learned recently that I need to break myself of that habit of ignoring what I’m feeling and learn to acknowledge these emotions in order to get over them and move on. The task of breaking that habit is proving to be more difficult than I thought.

As for how I feel now … almost three weeks after the initial disappointment? I’m still sad but I’m no longer free-falling. I’m at a plateau. But that plateau is more towards the bottom of the hill instead of the top. I’m hoping with more effort on my part, that I’ll start feeling that roller coaster start pulling me back up again.