And now for another installment of Things I Know Will Make Me Look Ridiculous: tap dancing class! The ridiculousness started when I bought my size 11 tap shoes. Yes, really.
I called around to find a store with my size in stock while I ate lunch in a nearly empty sandwich shop.
Me: Hi. Do you carry tap shoes [mumble, mumble, mumble]?
Store clerk: Excuse me?
Me: Do you carry tap shoes in…adult sizes?
Guy eating lunch in the corner: [meets my eye, looks away quickly]
Store clerk: Sure. We have several styles. What are you looking for?
Me: No idea. But do you have a size [mumble] in stock?
Store clerk: I’m sorry. I lost you there.
Me: Do you have tap shoes in an adult size 11?!
Store clerk: Sure. Come on in!
Guy eating lunch in the corner: [snicker]
As ridiculous as they look on my clown feet, I kind of love these shoes. I don’t know why, but the sound makes me smile. After I brought them home, I tapped around my bedroom closet for a while, feeling giddy. I don’t know what’s happened to me, either.
Anyway, my classmates and I moved pretty slowly last night, concentrating on learning steps and not falling down. New tap shoes are slippery. I was not the only one to nearly wipe out. I was the only one to crash into the wall. I like to make my mark.
Our teacher, Diane, made it difficult not to have fun. Her enthusiasm is so infectious, it may become a pandemic. Maybe it’s a dance teacher thing? My belly dancing teacher was remarkably joyful, too.
Diane dubbed me the “rockette,” probably because of my natural talent and not because I tower over everyone I meet. When I missed a cue (shocker!), she called, “Where is my rockette?” This tickled me beyond reason.
But Diane was excited about everyone’s performance, frequently chirping “Beautiful, girls, beautiful!” Not one of us “girls” was under 40, and most of us clung to the barre whenever we could.
It was a lot of fun, and I’m looking forward to the next class. For now, I have to go…um…organize my bedroom closet. I may be awhile.