I announced this exciting news in May but it bears repeating: My tiny dancer is back in action! That’s right, after a year’s sabbatical from competition, our youngest has decided to return to the thrilling and sometimes tawdry world of dance! And you know that that means? I’m a dance mom again! Woohoo!
Because in the long run, peeps, it’s all about me. Sure, I supported her decision to hang up her tap shoes and focus on school, knowing she needed a physical and mental break from the often overwhelming pressure. But deep down, I kept my fingers crossed that she’d (read: we’d) return. For five years, I’d been a dance mom. Driving to and from rehearsals, creating the perfect low buns, pinning straps and sewing up fishnets, scrutinizing other performers, scouring sketchy streets for the specified fast-food order and silently shaming scantily clad tweens and their mothers. My life had been just as much wrapped up in sequins and booty shorts and stupid judges who don’t know true talent when they see it as hers had been. In hindsight, this hiatus might have been more painful for me and my limited social life than it was for her. She has a ton of non-dance friends. I don’t. It’s not how I roll!
So, what does this mean for you? Basically, come January 2020, prepare for a slew of insightful and usually hilarious commentaries on girl dance drama, in all its bedazzled glory. I promise to bring my keen observation skills to every competition, every dressing room, every awards ceremony and every post-event ride home, to ensure high-quality entertainment for you, my adoring public. You’re welcome.
Jazz hands out.