In a couple months I turn 25. A quarter of a century! I can rent a car in the United States! It’s all terribly epic and exciting. And I promise you I am not one of those people who dreads birthdays and getting older and who will have a meltdown upon turning 25. That all seems a bit silly to me. I think that age is how you feel, and while I pride myself on being professional and intelligent, I’m ridiculously silly and prone to laughing until I cry. I will feel young forever, I don’t even think growing up is an option for me. But I will say that last night at dance I’ve never felt so incredibly old in my whole life.
We had a quick rehearsal for our upcoming show – each group danced only once, in the order of the show, so that we know where our dance falls in the lineup and so we can be prepared. So please note: I danced for about 2 and a half minutes. I showed up with a few others from my class, did my thing, and three minutes later was on the way home. But somehow, and please note that I have NO IDEA HOW, in those two and a half minutes I was tap dancing, I managed to pull my glutes. Oh my gluteus. Your butt muscles are a strange muscle group to injure when tap dancing, and today I’m hobbling around like Quasimodo, a bit embarrassed to tell people just exactly what I injured. Because really. Who does that?
It’s just all very sad. We watched nine numbers gallivant all over the studio for their two and half minutes, none of those dancers having completed a a proper warm-up or stretch either, but I can guarantee you none of them suffered such a ridiculous injury. No, having cold muscles when you’re nine years old isn’t even an issue. When you’re 25? Your sister-in-law suggests you ice your bum. Growing up is hard to do.