Genny and I had a girls’ day on Sunday. I hoped a little alone time might help us bond a little.
It’s unbelievable how many issues came up for me as I skated in slow ellipses.
First of all, Wonderland of Ice is where I used to go when I was a girl, so I was hyperaware of everything that’s changed and even more of what hasn’t changed over the decades.
I could see myself in the preteen girls huddled and giggling, more concerned about how they looked on the ice than whether they were having fun or not.
The music made me want to boogie, which of course got my hips shaking and made me self-conscious of my movements. Do I ice dance like a stripper?
Why am I always so concerned about what others think of me? It’s not like I wanted to gyrate my hips, I just wanted to glide and shake. I’m afraid I’m bottling my sense of self because of worries of what others will think of me.
Genny was having a marvelous time as all these thoughts raced through my mind. Of course, she was doing ice-shuffling and I was unable to ever leave her side, so I really didn’t have the opportunity to let my body open up on the ice.
But I also thought of how much I do love to perform. Although I’ve never taken ice skating lessons, I have a sense of wanting to imitate the moves. I feel that I would be good with a few lessons.
I don’t want to do triple axles or anything, but I’d love to be able to turn a little, spin, glide, embellish with my arms.
You’re too old. You’d embarrass yourself. Why start something new now? Who has the time? Why bother doing something if your aim is not to be the best?
I would love to have a hobby. My life just doesn’t afford me the time.
If I could, I’d love to take ice skating lessons. And I’d love to wear a cute little skating outfit with a skirt. I’d twirl and beam. Not for anyone else (honestly, I wouldn’t want anyone else to watch), but for the joy of dressing up, playing, and gliding to the rhythm my body so desperately wants to join.
