Murder on the Dance Floor

Sometimes, there is nothing better than whacking on a bit of pop music and having a little boogie. I love dancing around the room and pretending that I’m Beyoncé (don’t act like you don’t do it too).

The problem is I can’t dance.

Not even a little bit. I’m an uncoordinated mess of arm flailing and feet shuffling. I’m not just bad, I’m passionately terrible. Not quite dad dancing, but still embarrassing, yet I’m having fun most of the time.

Stick me on a dance floor in front of a load of people and that’s something else entirely. Suddenly I’m self-conscious and feel like I take up too much space. I’m bumping into everyone and getting all flustered. Did that woman just point me out to her friend? Oh my god, just kill me now.

I know that it’s probably all in my head. Everyone’s too caught up in their own lives to care what dance moves I’m pulling, but I feel like the centre of attention and not in a good way. I should be having a good time, and yet I’m too worried about making a fool of myself. Where is this fear even coming from?

Enough is enough.

I’m starting to realise that sometimes in life you’ve just got to go for it. I might look a bit silly, but when I’m surrounding by the right people lost in the moment, silly is worth it. Maybe I’ll never win Strictly, but I will have a good time, what more could I ask for?

 

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