Feb 7 2014
At this point, every child in America has danced to Ylvis’ “What Does the Fox Say?” You may have even seen the children’s book version in stores. I am not ashamed to admit that I know the lyrics by heart and have caught myself singing the interlude softly on many a morning commute:
The secret of the fo-o-ox
Somewhere deep in the woods
He is hiding
What is his souuuuund?
Will we ever know?
Well, inspired by Ylvis, the other day, my kid and I–being the intrepid scientists that we are–decided to do a little research into what the fox actually says. Read the rest of this entry →
Nov 7 2013
Deborah Cohan, OB/Gyn and mother of two, entered the operating room at San Francisco’s Mt. Zion Hospital to undergo a double mastectomy. Instead of being fearful and spiritless as many of us would be pre-surgery, Deborah opted to have a joyous dance party, and had her entire medical team breaking it down to Beyonce.
To make this hospital dance party story even more heartwarming, Deborah asked all of her friends to join in and make their own “Get Me Bodied,” dance videos too. And they did!
Kudos to you Deborah. You are one courageous lady (and an amazing dancer)!
Via Huffington Post
Jun 6 2013
When my daughter was 2 years old, she requested ballet lessons. I promptly put her off. The world of ballet, in all of its pink, graceful, waif-like glory, is decidedly not my thing. I didn’t want it to be hers either.
The mere mention of the B-word triggers painful memories of a brief period in my childhood when I shoved my awkward pre-pubescent body into pink tights and a matching leotard and stumbled and suffered through a class in which I was at least a head taller and 15 pounds heavier than every other girl in the room. I was not slender or graceful, and my blunt bob was not nearly long enough to put into a bun. It would be the first in a long string of experiences in which I felt like the outsider, and I didn’t want to experience that again, even vicariously through my child.
After six months–a lifetime for a 2-year-old– of requests, I decided to give it a go. Surely it was a phase, I told myself, surely we’d be in bejeweled soccer cleats within a few months. Read the rest of this entry →
May 23 2012
“Have a great time being Dance Mom!” my 12-year-old son chirped mischievously as I set off with my 8-year-old on his first day of rehearsal for Giselle with the American Ballet Theater at the Metropolitan Opera House in Lincoln Center.
My younger son has been taking dance classes for almost a year now, so when another mom told me about the casting call for background Village Boys in Giselle, we thought we’d give it a shot.
My feeling was it would be a one-of-a-kind, priceless experience. How often, after all, does the average child–or adult, for that matter–get to be on stage at the Met, standing within a few feet of some of the world’s greatest dancers and getting a view even a front-row ticket couldn’t buy? Add to that the chance to work in a professional environment, surrounded by gifted, extremely dedicated and hard-working people, and have the same level of professionalism and hard work expected from you in return, and I figured, yes, that’s worth a week of my life. (And if he failed, well, you know how I feel about failure.) Read the rest of this entry →
Aug 2 2011
Christina Applegate made a video about prenatal pole dancing.
A few years back when I was working as a freelancer, I took an assignment offered to me by the New York Post‘s Page Six Magazine. I will justify writing for them this way: $2 per word. The article I was asked to write was about the crazy things that a certain set of Manhattan ladies do to avoid getting fat while pregnant. At the time I was in my late 20s and the idea of pregnancy was about as foreign as say, exotic dancing. And here’s where these two seemingly disparate things overlap.
I managed to find a sweet, unsuspecting pregnant lady who was pole dancing while the fetus inside her was growing. I was invited to the class though I was told there was no watching. Only participating. So, there I was, in the basement of a synagogue where the studio had set up their overflow class (this is weird, I know, and what must the rabbi think?) watching a woman eight months pregnant swing around a pole in sweaty darkness to Prince’s “Sexy M.F.”
Needless to say, she was an easy target. A pregnant woman! Being sexy! Dancing around a pole! The gall! I wrote the piece and the tone was nothing short of nasty. And the editors (always blame the editors!) made it all the nastier. And when the piece came out I felt bad. Very bad. And then several years later when I was pregnant, I felt like a big old jerk. Who was I to judge?
I think about this a lot these days. In the world of mommying it seems there’s a whole lot of judging going around. And I just sometimes think that everybody should just take a big breath and mind their own business.
So, the next time you see a pole dancing pregnant lady, just remember that.