Taking my sad out dancing.


Busy day today.

I met the lovely Carly Findlay for brunch – she is a melbourne blogger who bravely takes chronic illness in her stride. She is a little crackerjack!

Then I met my mum and sister for lunch. Smile and nod. Smile and nod.

I did some of the article. It is not finished yet. Writing is like (I would imagine) pushing a turd out against a haemorrhoid, sorry for the graphic analogy. It is overdue. Tomorrow/Tuesday…

I started packing today. I had known it would be hard, and sad. I sorted, I listened to music. I took a break, lying prone on the floor. Hey, it seemed like an appropriate thing to do.

I had been thinking about going to Salsa classes – I’ve actually been wanting to go for some years. I like most forms of dance. Come about 6:30, the inertia of being in tracksuit pants was great, and it was tempting to hunker down in front of the telly.

But, again, the times when we most want to curl into a little ball are probably those where we must absolutely get out. So I rocked up to a class at the Provincial Hotel in Fitzroy.

The thing with rocking up to these classes alone is that you can be who you want to be. A saucy minx, even.

Saucy minx has left the building for a little while. An earnestly, nervously smiling Cilla was there. I dressed fairly comfortably, not saucily.

There was no time to fortify myself with alcohol before, so I went in stone cold sober. Inside, there were ladies, mostly younger than me, quite a few made up to the nines, and dressed in attire so tight that one could see every cocopop they ate for breakfast. They had the bodies for it, though!

A few gentleman,  numbers approximately evenly matched with the ladies. Most were smiling nervously, some were not smiling at all, one had a smile on his face like a cheshire cat.

It was fun. It made me smile. Genuinely smile. It was an effort to keep my eyes off the floor (and, alternatively, off the instructor’s pert buttocks. Sorry. Ladette speaking).

An hour was enough. My sad, left at the front door, was there to greet me and walk me to my car. I went home, and on seeing the empty wall where I have taken down some pictures, I had a bit of a cry.

I can’t expect euphoria now. Just enough joy to get me through from day to day without going insane. I know, intellectually, things will get better. People have told me they will. It is hard to believe at the moment.

I will go to the class again. I will wear my strappy heels and lippy. A bit more minxy.

One response »

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s