Pump Up the Jam

I have some talents. I can carry a tune. I can generally write without falling into grammatical ignominy. I can find the bright side of almost any situation. Not one of my talents: dancing.

Ironically, I think I could have been a pretty good dancer. I'm not completely without rhythm, and when offered choreography I can hold my own. (I tore up the stage in the chorus of my high school's production of "Guys and Dolls". I can jump up on a chair like nobody's business.) But I grew up in a family where dancing was forbidden on moral grounds, so I never really got the chance to test my wings, or feet, or whatever, on the dance floor.

It's ok. I got through my childhood without much dance-related scarring. Now, though, when I find myself in situations where dancing might be appropriate, I feel incredibly awkward. I never learned what looks smooth or cool, or how to make my body move in the way my brain wants it to, so I'm always fearful that I'm dancing in the manner of Elaine from "Seinfeld" or Carlton from "Fresh Prince".

Despite it all, I secretly don't hate to dance. This winter I bought a copy of "Just Dance" for the Wii. (Did I mention it on this blog or just on Facebook? Can't remember.) It became my standard substitute for going to the gym on snow days--the kids did it right along with me. And I LOVED it. Awesomely campy music, garish graphics, ridiculous dance moves, and SO much fun. A great workout, too.


I started to think about how much fun it could be to do this in a group...if, you know, you were the kind of person who dances in public. I am not that girl. The moment I realized that, I began to rebel. Why not? Because I'm scared? Who exactly is the boss of whether I can dance in front of people?

In a fit of petulance, then, I signed on to this blog and changed item #37 on my list, which used to read "Host a creative night" (right up my alley), to "Host a 'Just Dance' night" (scary scary scary).

Last week I started to think about how I'd actually go about accomplishing this. Step one: I got Mark to agree to vacate the premises on Friday night for me. Not a hard sell. He went to a movie. Step two: a guest list. Much trickier. In the context of dancing, the only people who don't scare me are small children and the elderly. So in another fit of rebellion I started scrolling through my list of Facebook friends looking for local women my age and younger. I created an event and invited a bunch of women from my staff team and my church.

OK, at this moment the "F" in my Myers-Briggs "ENFP" designation is jabbing at me like an old football injury, worrying that someone might read this and feel hurt that they weren't invited. Let me just say that there are MANY more people on my list of FB friends whom I dearly love and who would have qualified under the above criteria, but I had visions of packing out our living room with 35 women who would have to stand in a huddled mob, looking at me quizzically and trying to figure out how soon they could gracefully leave.

As it turned out, though, we ended up with the following seven women, all of whom attend or have recently attended our church:

• Me. Hi, I'm Jocelyn. I have funny kids, and I'm fond of over-sharing on the internet.
• Monica, who has been transplanted here from Romania. She's smiley, sincere, and warm, and she has awesome super-curly hair. You may remember me mentioning that magical buttercream frosting we all learned to make for a wedding: it was Monica's. So we're all grateful for that, too. (She's probably wishing I'd shut up already about the frosting. Not likely.)
  
• Annette. Everyone needs someone like Annette in their life. She's fun, smart, and reliable, she's always thinking about other people, and she loves Jesus. Quality.
• Juliet, a young, artsy new mom who seems WAY more laid-back, in very good ways, than I was when my firstborn was as little as hers.
• Chelsea, who seriously doubted her dancing ability but whose enthusiasm for the music was totally contagious. So fun. She was in elementary school when we were teachers at her school...it's been fun getting to know her as a grownup. (note to self: I am old.)
  
• Natalie, who is quietly adorable and doesn't generally talk about the fact that she suffers from constant, chronic pain. Girl is NOT a complainer. And despite the pain, she can really move!
• Lucia. Lucia was the closest to my age. I'm not saying 40 is bearing down on her like the juggernaut it is in my life, but let's say she and I probably both bought dresses with shoulder pads in them the LAST time they were in style. (which: hello, current fashion designers, didn't we already decide that was a bad idea?) Lucia is smart, cerebral, and easygoing, and I like her. She endeared herself to me even further by wearing a sequined shirt to this event. Awesome.

We put the boys down a little early, Mark took off for his movie, and Joy helped me get things rolling at about 8 before she went to bed. I put out some healthyish snacks (including a weight watchers gingerbread that was really pretty good), and we just sort of jumped in.


And oh my gosh, was it fun. There was line-dancing-type jumping around to "Cotton-Eyed Joe". There was tribal-type gyrating to "Jin Go Lo Ba" (?). We shimmied and pranced to "Wannabe". We fake-surfed to the Beach Boys. We did the running man, the sprinkler, the twist, and...possibly the mashed potato?

And we laughed. A lot. At ourselves, at the tv...not so much at each other, really, except when Chelsea kept gleefully yelling "STOP it!!!" whenever we came across some awesomely cheesy song from her past. ("I Like To Move It"/"Pump Up the Jam"/some New Kids on the Block song/etc...) We decided that home video game dancing may be Lucia's spiritual gift, as she kept winning even when repeatedly hitting the ceiling fan with the Wii remote. There was way more apologetic downplaying of good performance ("I think it's this remote!") than trash-talking. It was silly, good-natured fun.

I did, in fact, feel totally awkward during the actual dancing. But there was something incredibly freeing about stubbornly dancing through the awkwardness, so by 20 minutes in I was sweating like I'd just run a marathon and having an increasingly fabulous time.

We went strong for 2 hours before we finally ran out of steam and called it quits. Everybody said they had a blast and that we ought to do it again. I don't know whether they were being polite (these are some seriously sweet women), but I totally agree.

This post turned out way longer than I planned. I'll add some photos tomorrow (though there's only one actual pic of the event, for which Annette agreed to pose...). For now, though, I just want to get it online and establish for the record that my wonderful friends helped me take one more silly, awkward, tiny step toward brave.