Because life is about learning to dance in unusual places

07 Mar

I was born twenty minutes after the eleventh hour of the eighth day of the third month of a long-ago year. I was an average size baby, I’ve reached my developmental goals as was expected of me, and was a pretty normal child. Let’s just say I didn’t do much damage. And I was even sure I’d never leave my city.

Yep, I was a pretty boring child, and I’m sure my mom would agree with me. She’d tell me to be crazier, that it was okay to be silly sometimes. I remember her dancing around in the middle of the grocery store, swirling her skirt, trying to make me see the joy in being silly in public. I was embarrassed by that when I was little, but I also felt jealous. I wanted to be like her, I wanted to dance and not care if someone would see me or what they would think of me. And as years go by, I try as hard as I can to care less about what others think. It’s not always easy, but I try.

My mother is pretty amazing. I also remember her saying lines she had to memorize with her colleague on the streets. I was mortified, because she’d say things like “he shot himself right here” while sticking her finger in her mouth to show were exactly he had shot himself. I knew it was part of a theater play, but others didn’t, so you can imagine the looks they gave us. To be honest, I never even saw anyone looking at us. I was too busy looking at my feet and blushing three shades of red to notice anything else. But in my head I was sure she was drawing attention to us. And drawing attention was something I dreaded more than anything else in the world. It was worse than getting hurt.

The first time I did draw attention to myself, on purpose I mean, not by accident, was when I shaved my head. I was sixteen at the time. I have to say I was pretty happy with the result. I think it was then that I finally realized I was pretty. I was so afraid people would think I was a boy that I started wearing clothes that would show I was a girl. I started wearing make-up, big earrings, skirts, tights, and even showing some cleavage. Not that I had much to show, but whatever, I had some, and some was better than none. When my hair started growing I decided to give it a bit of a red tone. As time went by I started adding more and more red. It was like a drug, it was never enough. Now my hair has to be apple red for me to be happy. I tried to go back to brown, to even go with blond or black hair, but I always ended up going back to red. Red is my color. Red is me.

After that a lot of things have changed. My life changed quite a bit. I almost got married. I no longer live in the same city. Well, I don’t even live in the same country anymore. I moved to a different country, with a different culture and a different language. And although nothing happened as I expected, I’m glad things happened the way they did. I’m happy with the way things are, although they are so different from the plans I once had for my life.

And from times to times I start dancing in the middle of a grocery store. Just because.


Tags: , , , ,

4 responses to “Because life is about learning to dance in unusual places

  1. Pita Belli

    March 7, 2012 at 6:57 am

    Hehe… adorei! É muito bom dançar na “grocery store”. Estejam os outros olhando ou não. Isso nem importa. Dança vermelha da mãe! te amamos

  2. sheismadeofgold

    March 7, 2012 at 3:29 pm

    I was much the same way growing up. I was shy, awkward, hated attention, and stayed away from any loud attention drawing people. Now, I’m the one that is always dancing and singing and doing absolutely ridiculous things in public. Funny how things change.

    • RedheadCarol

      March 12, 2012 at 10:37 pm

      It is funny how things change. I’m also the one dancing and not caring if others can see me. 🙂


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: