Too Old for Barbies

When I was a kid, I played with Barbie dolls. I played with them much longer than normal people. Still, by the time my little sister wanted to play with Barbies, I was no longer interested. I couldn't make myself enjoy it anymore. I had already done it too much.

My sister is ten years younger than me.

I was remembering that today at dance class. I was going to beginner class because a friend of mine was supposed to be coming, but he didn't show. I stayed anyway because I'd come with R.

Often, people in dance class who don't know me tell me I am patient. Remembering what it's like to be learning is what makes me patient. But after a while, certain things get on my nerves anyway. And after a long while, bizarre things start getting on my nerves. Like people telling me I'm a good teacher. They are trying to be nice. But my brain is screaming, "I am not the teacher!" I'm not so good at refraining from rolling my eyes anymore. And it's making dancing seem less fun.

I'm not going to beginner class anymore for a long time. I'm thinking of quitting going to all the classes for a few years. (But then I want to go back because my instructor is always figuring out new and better ways to teach things. And new things to teach--I'm learning a new and difficult step in bolero right now!)

I've been going to these classes for seventeen years. That's a crazy long time. I should be doing something else now.