May 23, 2008, I had an essay, Sticker Shock, published in The Globe and Mail. In it I confessed to Impostor Syndrome brought on by a cobalt blue belly dance bumper sticker from my mother-in-law. With little talent and none of the elaborate costumes, I felt I hadn't earned the right to drive around with such a sticker on the back of our car.
I wrote an essay, shoved the sticker in a file folder and made a bold prediction. By the time we got around to replacing our Altima, which had only 153,000 kms (92,000 miles) on it, I would be ready to embrace my inner dancer. I wrote:
"... I haven't chosen that all-important belly dance name. I have no I Dream of Jeannie costumes either. Just yoga wear and a cheap hip scarf that flings its coins across the room as I shake. Nameless, costumeless and graceless, I show up, I listen, I try to dance.
...I've got plenty of time to learn how to shimmy... [When I do] I'll announce it with my perfectly preserved bumper sticker, slapped on a brand-spanking new fender."
Big words from a woman who thought she had 3 to 5 years to get her shimmy down pat.
On May 25, 2009, almost exactly a year after the Globe essay, our black cherry Altima lost an argument with another vehicle. By a minor miracle, only the car suffered irreparable damage, but my perspective on what is and isn't important changed.
The other day, I filed away the last of the insurance papers, and came across the bumper sticker again. After a few minutes debate, I took an inventory. I now have one teal-blue beaded costume to my name, two recitals under my belt and a new-to-us silver Versa in the driveway.
Don't get me wrong. I still dance like a marionette under the control of a demonic puppeteer. But that no longer matters.
If you see me, honk and wave.
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6 comments:
Well, congratulations!
The closest I get to belly dancing is "Shimmy" on public television - done furtively while the rest of the hosue sleeps while I'm still in my PJs.
That's it. You are officially my here.
Oops. Hero. (dang!)
Love every single thing about this, Charmian, good for you! :)
YES!!!! Glad to have you in the family. Love from your proud sister. R.
Cheryl A, don't hide that shimmy in PJs!
The Other Cheryl, I'm definitely here. Not so sure about the hero thing. Think your fingers were right the first time. But thanks.
Diva, thanks. This time Andrew didn't argue when I pulled out the sticker. I think the accident changed both our perspectives.
Robin, you might not be so proud when you see me dance.
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