I’m not a jealous person by nature. I very rarely ever feel jealousy. In fact, I think that’s one of the main reasons I tend to have more male friends than female friends – I just do not understand jealousy. I’ve tried, I’ve tried so hard to wrap my head about it. The credit really goes to my parents for that, though. I’ve been trained from a very young age that if you ever see someone else with something you want, there’s no point in just coveting it. No, instead you look at them as an example and you figure out a way to earn whatever it is they have that you want. Turn it into a positive, turn it into a way to propel yourself forward, to learn, to grow.
I’ve finally found something that I’m truly jealous of, because there’s no way I can earn it. No way I can change it.
As some of my regular readers will attest, I used to watch ‘Dancing With The Stars’ quite regularly. In fact, I’d get rather serious about the whole thing, especially when I saw that some of the pro dancers were outright copying other pro dancers in the competitive ballroom dancing world. Even though I know it’s just a stupid reality TV show, I followed it because it was a way to live vicariously. When I was a little kid, I used to watch Shirley Temple movies like mad. I’d beg my Mom to watch those movies in her bedroom, specifically so I could be in there alone so I could dance. I’d stand in front of the TV screen, replay the dance sequences again and again, copying every single move until I could memorize each flick of the ankle, each tap of the heel. I never performed in front of anybody and was always strangely ashamed when anybody caught me. I have no clue why.
But I loved to dance. I wanted to dance so badly when I grew up. I was just too practical of a kid to ever expect I could make a living at it, so I always had other dreams of “what I’d be when I grow up.” But dancing was there, in the background, as something I wanted to do on the side. Something for fun.
When I got sick, when the toe happened, that was one of the things I missed. I still miss not being able to move. I honestly think I was pretty good at it, for not having any training at least. But I’ll never know how good I could have been.
Anyway, I’m rambling, getting away from where I started. Cause the dancing doesn’t really have much to do with the jealousy, not directly anyway. But watching ‘Dancing With The Stars’ does.
I’ve stopped watching it. For a variety of reasons. The outright manipulation on the part of the producers bugs the living crap out of me. I can’t stand that they’re casting outright ringers, people with so much dance experience that they literally count as pros according to the Stage Actors Guild and all the various unions in Hollywood. If you audition for and win a paying role based in whole or in part on your dancing abilities, I’m sorry, that makes you a professional. Nicole Scherzinger qualified as a pro last year, Jennifer Grey qualifies this year. It’s sickening and totally contrary to the show’s own rules. And then the emotional manipulation of the view through all sorts of TV tricks, bleugh, enough to turn my stomach.
But that’s just a teensy bit of a cover. Because emotionally, it was a little bit hard. It’s kind of the same reason I don’t watch Formula 1 anymore, even though I love it.
It’s that i love it so much I miss it.
Wow, I’m really rambling. I’m gonna blame that on the fact that it’s 5am. Basically, what I’m getting at is, watching people dance, watching fit people race, you can’t help but marvel at the wonders of the human body. I can’t help but think, I wonder if those people realize how lucky they are. Do they realize what a miracle it is that their bodies obey them? It must be marvelous to know that if you eat right, if you exercise hard, you can command your body to obey you. You can order it into a new shape, a new way of operating, a new way of surviving. Your willpower, you choices, your actions, can change your very body. You can go from flabby to fit. Sure, it’s hard, sure it takes a lot of time and effort. But they can do it. Chances are, most of you could do it. If you really tried.
That’s what I’m jealous of. I’ve tried so hard, so many ways, all the typical things the world tells you to do to make your body healthy. Nothing works. Now at least I know why, now at least it’s not my fault. My stupid genes don’t work right, so when I exercise, my body sends the wrong cells to repair the minute tears in the muscle fiber that occur during exercise. The heat generated from all that activity encourages the growth of new mutated fat cells. There is literally nothing I can do, nothing I can try, to change that. My body won’t listen to me. It’s as if it speaks another language, but not only is the language foreign to me, it’s foreign to everyone else on the planet. I can’t even hire an interpreter.
It’s really tiring feeling like an alien. Feeling like you don’t belong and no one, not even your doctors understand you. it’s tiring getting dirty looks from people on the street, fit people whose bodies obey them, looking down on me as if it’s my fault. I’m tired of doctors asking me, “Are you sure it’s fluid?” I know they have to ask, but do they have to ask that way?
This probably sounds way, way worse than I mean it. I just had to get it out. Basically, if your body listens to you, be grateful for that. It truly is a miracle, and I for one am jealous.