This week’s blog hop topic is my earliest memory. While I’ve read that some people remember things that happened when they were age three or so, that isn’t the case with me. One of my early memories dates to about age 6 or 7.
I guess I must have received a phonograph (who remembers those, by the way?), and the first record I remember playing on it was Nutcracker Suite. Did I ask for that record? How did my mother somehow know to buy it for me? I have no idea. I came from a musical family, but their tastes ran to hymns and pop songs, not classical. What I do know is how I loved dancing around the living room of my grandmother’s house to Tchaikovsky’s music.
My mother, bless her, then tried to enroll me in dance classes with a couple other neighbor girls. But even at that age, self-consciousness had already set in. When I compared my friends’ skinny bodies to my plump one, I was too embarrassed to participate in something that would have given me such joy.
I was well into adulthood before I finally screwed up my courage and took a few dance classes. I eventually joined a senior dance team. At last, I got to wear sequins and fling a boa around. Oh, the self-consciousness hadn’t disappeared. I was still comparing my figure to those of the other women, most of whom had the body type usually associated with dancers. But this time around, I managed to power through it.
Confidence is a valuable commodity.
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