You Can't Dance and Stay Uptight

My writer friend Kristen asked me today, "What do you do for exercise?"

I'd emailed her sharing that I'd been feeling a bit on the depressed side as of lately. Actually, to say I have felt down would be misleading as I've felt downright miserable with everything in general. I lamented that maybe exercise would pull me out of my funk.

If someone asked me, "What's wrong?" about the only honest answer I could give them was, "Everything."

I don't need someone else to kick me when I'm down. I do a grand job of kicking myself. Following my no smoking campaign, and no diet soda, I couldn't see things getting much worse.

I suppose I could have remained in a proverbial heap on the floor, hoping some kind and gentle soul would come along, pick me up, dust me off, and set me on my own two feet. But quite frankly, I don't know of one individual who is equipped to deal with me when I'm in a mood, much less coax me back to reality. Some do try, but until I decide I'm done hosting my pity party, it's futile. (I do appreciate those who care, but one must do battle with her own demons.)

Monday, when I got the kids off to school, I put on some music. I didn't have too many opportunities this summer to crank some tunes and enjoy. It's unfortunate because I'm highly motivated and moved by music. It's like therapy to me. No, it's not like therapy. It is therapy to me.

Dion seranaded me from the living room as I did dishes:

"Oh, I'm the type of guy who likes to roam around. I'm never in one place. I roam from town to town..."

As he did, something funny happened. I felt like dancing. By the time Jerry Lee Lewis was suggesting I "shake it, baby shake it," I was wholeheartedly. Before I knew it, I dragged out my dumbbells and my aerobic step. One hour passed. I was left winded, sweaty, and exhilirated.

I explained to Kristen that I have my own work-out program. I dance, incorporating moves I've learned from all those videos in a previous post. I've got doing dishes and folding laundry while dancing down to a science. The dog and cats, after being kicked and stepped on inadvertently, have learned to keep their distance.

I really challenge anyone to listen to any of the following songs and not want to dance (a sampling of today's selection):

Keep Your Hands to Yourself - Georgia Satellites
Wild Thing - Tone Loc
Get Down on It - Kool & the Gang
Crazy Bitch - Buck Cherry
Hey Ya - Outkast
Walkin' on the Sun - Smash Mouth
Love Her Madly - The Doors
Brandy - Looking Glass
Dancing in the Moonlight - King Harvest

I know some people find it very bizarre that I'll dance around the house when I'm alone. I certainly wouldn't do it with an audience, and I guess that I'm lucky I have the time alone to indulge.

Today, as I listened to "Crazy Bitch," I took down my hair and flipped it around as I danced. You know, like a rocker chick might do in a heavy metal video. It was likely the most insane thing I've ever done in the privacy of my own home, but strangely liberating. (As the evening progresses, perhaps a little hard on the ole neck, too.)

"You can't dance and stay uptight," is a line from "Dancing in the Moonlight." It's so very true. While I might benefit from hitting the gym or following a more ridgid routine, nothing makes me feel better than doing the twist or a little cha-cha'ing to get the blood flowing.