I have attended two great concerts in the past few weeks. At the first one my hubby’s band played at a park for about 3 hours. Around 3,000 people came and went during that time. The music spanned every genre imaginable. The tunes were upbeat and fun. And yet, I was one of three people over the age of twelve dancing at all over the course of the entire three hours. And, as always, I was stone-cold sober.
The second concert was on July 3rd. A Beatles/Beachboys tribute band played. Again, my hubs and I were the only adults dancing until after dark. Then, a few dozen or so joined us. Again, the park was filled with tons of people.
I don’t understand why people won’t dance. I know they want to. I see heads bobbing up and down. I see feet tapping. Just standing up and keeping doing those two things, and you will miraculously find you are dancing!
Whenever I went to dances as a teenager, I thought the lights were just low so the attractiveness of the person who just asked you to slow dance was sort of a mystery. And it was nice camouflage for any recent pimple breakouts. Now, though, I think they kept the lights low so that people would feel less intimidated and actually bust a move or two.
I have all sorts of people stare at me when I’m getting my groove on. And most are not appreciative; most look at me as if I am the goo that collects at the bottom of the park garbage cans after 3,000 people have used them. And still I dance on.
It’s not like I’m a great dancer. I just enjoy moving to music. I am on beat,and I don’t have any dance moves that would remind you of poultry, so I’m not a bad dancer either.
The next time you attend a concert, look for the bouncy mom getting her groove on and you’ll have found me. Better yet, join me. Don’t worry about what people think. They are all secretly jealous that you’re having more fun than they are when you’re out there dancing. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself so I will continue to move it move it.