something i miss.

I miss this.

I got home from work tonight and after a quick trip to McDonald's with my roommates {and Quinn}, in which we probably made the poor girl working the drive-thru want to quit right on the spot, we came home and watched a movie I've never seen before, "Save the Last Dance." I'm probably the only girl in my generation who's never seen it, but that's not the point. 

I grew up dancing. From the time I was under two feet tall to the time I hit five foot eight {in about the 6th grade} and beyond, I danced. Ballet and jazz were two things I was good at. I tried sports, but lacked pretty much any coordination that involved hand-eye contact. Plus I'm not very fast. But with dance, it just worked for me. My feet knew what to do. My eyes knew how to spot the wall as I pirouetted across the floor. It was something that came easy to me, even though I put in hours and hours each week stretching, doing hundreds of releves until my ankles couldn't take it anymore, and soaking my aching feet after lessons. Ballet even influenced my decision to study French. 

After being in "The Nutcracker" when I was 13, I knew dancing was something I wanted to keep doing {I was one of these guys. But with a much cooler costume}. And it was honestly one of the most fun things I've ever done. The dance was challenging, but performing in my favorite ballet made me so happy. And gave me some of the best calves in town. Legs for DAYS, guys. ;)

Anyway, back to the movie. Watching it made me miss the thing that had been a major part of my life for about 15 years. I don't know why I gave it up. Maybe I thought once I got to BYU, I wouldn't be as good as the other dancers, so what was the point? But I never tried to figure out if that would be true. I just...stopped. And I wish I hadn't.

Would I probably have wanted to become a professional dancer? Nah. But I wish I would have pushed myself, at least for a few more years. I remember how good I felt when, after lots of practice, I nailed a perfect grand jeté. I remember how happy it made me and how I felt like I accomplished something hard. Which for me is one of the best feelings in the world.

Anyway, I'm going to stop here. Something in my french fries made me a little slap-happy and our little viewing party is starting to crack jokes about 2001 fashion and I want to put in my two cents. Moral of the story is this: don't give up something you love just because you don't think you'll be good enough. I promise you'll regret it.