Wistful

It's been cold and rainy the past few days and nights, which generally gives me the blues. I can't seem to find the right thing to get me out of it, either. Back in the day, I got dolled up, put on my coat and went out dancing.

I hate not being able to do that anymore. Hate it.

Now, I am not one to sulk and feel sorry for myself. In fact, my emotional lows generally result in me taking action of some kind. But if I am able to do what I love to do and do well, how do I take positive action, when action in itself is my issue?

I was watching a dance competition on one of the spanish stations today, and was critical of the women dancing Salsa. I never learned or attempted to learn how to be lifted over a guy's head or how to lean all the way back to floor level with my partner only holding onto the back of my neck (imagine the Limbo), but I knew how to "style", like "threading the needle" which simply is raising your arm up after being turned, or doing flutter steps when doing the Cha Cha. The best thing was knowing I had the ass for Salsa dancing. I didn't move my shoulders around, because Salsa is not about that unless there is a particular move you're doing, but it's all about the hips moving side to side, sticking  your butt out when you step back, arching the back when your partner moves you forward, moving the hips in a circular motion, bending your right leg to slightly lift your heel before bringing the other leg forward. Salsa and merengue are very erotic and provacative dances. I glared submissively at my partner (if I found him attractive) and once in a while I danced Merengue with that a sexy man who knew how to put his knee between my leg and move his pelvis against my hip and I could feel his "enthusiasm". I liked when my partner would turn me halfway and his arms would wrap around my upper abdomen and he leaned me back against him, or at the end of the song, he would dip me back and give me an upward twirl back up to my feet. Dancing was the safest sex of all!

It's very bittersweet for me to listen to Salsa, or any Tropical music because the music reminds my body what it's supposed to do. I hope I am not in denial, but when I listen to Salsa the passion of the music makes me cry because I can't wait to dance again. I cry because I can't just stand up and do it, and I refuse to accept that I won't be able to ever again.