Discussion in 'General Dance Discussion' started by DanceMentor, Apr 13, 2003.
you don't care if they think you are crazy. you know you are crazy.
...you check out all the fancy dresses in a department store although you came to buy a T-Shirt
...you don't mind standing in line because now you can go mentally though your dance routine
...you start comparing your feet to other people's feet
... when music comes on in a public place, you yell, for example: "It's a cha-cha!" (as if anybody cared)
...Your non-dancer friends listen politely to your constant dance talk, but secretly they wish you'd get into pottery or rock climbing
When doing your budget, the order things get plugged in goes mortgage-car payment-dance-utilities-food-everything else.
During said budgeting exercise, you consider trade-offs such as cancelling cable (or a $50-a-month clothing, restaurant and entertainment category) quite reasonable and worth serious consideration.
You adopt three kittens (now 3 yrs old) and instead of naming them after the two that passed away... you name them Salsa, Cha Cha, and Tango.
Also, after leaving the dance floor you struggle to find any long standing source of inspiration, only to be FLOODED with it two years later after your first lesson back.
when you spend 15 minutes trying to explain to the (non-english speaking) pedicurist that under no circumstances may he even think about sanding the balls of your feet or shaving off the callouses
hahahaha. SO TRUE!!
When you book your lessons with you pro on your day off without checking with the mrs first to see if she has an outing planned
When you agree to a social dance, even though you hate it, because it's been so long since your last fix.
An hour before first job interview in years, should be studying resume, application, or job requirements.
Instead, browsing results & professional photos from recent dance competition (& I didn't even dance at that one).
...you keep getting confused when it's your turn playing a board game, because your non-dancing friends stubbornly insist on playing their turns in clockwise order.
...the first thing you do upon getting home after flying 7000+ miles is take a shower and go out dancing. Despite having been awake for 24 hours already.
More than once, I've come off of a Friday evening flight and gone straight to the studio.
you dance 8 rounds at a comp in under four hours and you can't wait to fly home to.....practice
Or on the flip side of that, all of your friends insist on playing turns, not "counter-clockwise", but specifically "line of dance" - because they are literally all ballroom dancers.
You're frustrated because you wanna get out of work in time to go see a competition, but find that you have to stay behind a while.
You excitedly post to FB an article about how dancing has been scientifically proven to be addicting. As justification for your addiction.
1) When the favorite card in your wallet is your dance studio member card
2) When you book a cab straight after work (pretty expensive here) at least once every week, just so you can reach the class in time cos your working hours is fixed late
3) When the amt of time you spend in the studio increases from 1 hr a week to 8 hours, and still no sign of stopping there
4) When all the decisions in your life, be it work or relationships, are based on whether it will affect our lessons
5) When you behave like a zombie whenever you are not in the studio
When you cut holidays with your family several days short to get back in town, because you managed to convince your pro to give you secret from other students, studio-closed lessons on the one day he'll be in town over the break.
You know you're addicted when:
1. The guy you're sleeping with rolls over in the middle of the night and mumbles "Fix your head. Fix it. FIX your HEADWEIGHT."
2. You actually try to do just that before you realize "Hey! At that position it's a styling option!" and go back to sleep.
When the biggest factor in deciding on a college is dancing and staying close to your amazing studio/coaches/partner
Separate names with a comma.