I was advised today that one of my favorite writers, Ann Leary just sold her book, “The Good House” to a movie company.
Not wanting to let a moment pass without pitching myself, I sent her a Facebook message stating that if she’s looking for someone to play an intrusive neighbor or a know it all aunt who also knows how to tap dance I’m her guy.
Then I started thinking about my tap dancing creds.
One of the earliest upsetting moments of my life occurred via tap dancing.
Each day when I got home from school my mother would ask me the same question, “Did the teacher say that you were the prettiest one?”
I was no dummy. Even though I knew I was in fact the prettiest one I was aware that no teacher worth her salt would hurt the rest of the children by saying so.
Therefore my answer was always a shy “no”
At some point when I was about 8 my mother or I decided that going to dancing school would be just what I needed to complete me.
I stood next to my mother while she dialed up the dancing school happily picturing myself floating around a stage in a tutu wearing toe shoes.
My mother’s voice pierced my lacy billowy dream when I heard her say,
“She’s a little chubby so what kind of dance would you suggest? Tap?”
“Chubby? Tap?” Was I hearing things?
Even now I can almost envision my self esteem falling to a tutu covered lump on the floor where I stood.
Is it possible that when my mother asked me each day “Did the teacher say you were the prettiest one?” that she knew it wasn’t so?
Clearly she thought I was chubby. How did that fit in to a description of the prettiest girl?
As Doctor Phil says ” This was a defining moment”
Anyway I didn’t say a word. I took the tap lessons that I still remember, “brush brush tap” but I was not very good.
I guess my heart wasn’t in it.
But if Ann wants me to tap dance in her movie, I will.