The Dress! The Ball! The Art of Being Girly!

I am NOT a girly girl.

And yet, when I open a special package from my mom and see the PERFECT ball gown, I can't help but squeal and dance on the spot. My poor friend who is visiting me at the time sits helplessly on the couch while I model the dress and chirp about the perfect ribbon to accessorize this charming dress.

(Who needs a Fairy Godmother when you have a REAL mother who sees your pitiful plea on your blog and calls you minutes later from the fabric store with a pattern in hand and three fabric choices? Not only does my mom create the dress within hours, but she sends it overnight so I will have time to add the finishing touches. Wow! I guess love can be pretty magical, too :))

The finishing touches consist of a hem and a ribbon, and suddenly I realize that neither of those items are on my "done this before" list. Yikes! Then I receive a sad phone call from my friend confirming that the weather and road conditions are FAR too treacherous for her to travel here.

*gasp* *sob*

I will be going to the ball alone?! In an unfinished dress?!

No way.

I call my friend Marianne and beg her to come. She says she is delighted to attend with her husband Albert and I can even use her sewing machine to hem my dress!

I pop over to Marianne's house where she teaches me how to do a hidden stitch...or a hidden hem? Something like that. Pretty cool. Then she pulls out some ribbon for my dress and voila! The dress is complete! I still feel like something is missing, though, and I'm a little embarrassed to say it out loud. It's lucky for me that Marianne could pick up on my subtle hints and offer to braid my hair.

(Y'know, I've never been attracted to the girly arts. And they ARE arts. Fashion, make-up, braiding, friendship bracelets...all those things you learn at slumber parties and Girls Camp and late nights with college roommates...they've never appealed to me. I've never even missed them until that exact moment when I wanted to be girly and didn't even know how to ask.)

When Marianne finishes braiding my hair into a neat little crown and ties it with a loopy ribbon, I squeal like a girly girl and leap about her living room. I have never been so happy to be so girly. I may have startled her a little.

Dress: gorgeous

Hair: perfectly girly

I'm ready for the ball.

A friend comes to stay with our sleeping Alice while Bobby goes to watch Marianne and Albert's two kids. We arrive at the ball just as the one-hour "warm up session" for beginners ends. Erk. I notice people dressed in all sorts of period costumes. Anything from Jane Austenesque to Shakesperean to Captain Jack Sparrow is fair game. I think the common theme was...uh...any time period when women wore corsets.

We notice there is a printed program for the evening and have a look. Each dance is listed in order with descriptions like "triple proper longways" and "duple improper longways"...Marianne, Albert, and I look at each other with wide eyes. My stomach sinks. I groan to myself, "I am in WAY over my head. What was I THINKING?! This is the 14th Annual Christmas Ball held by the Central Illinois English Country Dancers. How could I possibly delude myself into believing I would have fun as a total novice?! A partnerless beginner?!" I feel myself emotionally inching towards the door and plotting ways to hide in the bathroom until it's over. "That's absurd!" I scold myself. "Just have fun. Let go of the anxiety and decide to have fun. Forget what anyone else thinks. Make this a night that you will want to remember."

Marianne suggests we sit out the first part to try and learn by watching. Albert and I heartily agree. Then we see the first dance is called "Grand March" and decide that a march can't be THAT impossibly complicated. The musicians warm up and the couples form a line. I team up with the first woman I see for 3 reasons: 1) I'm a gutless wall flower pretending to be okay with the idea that I'm at a dance without a partner, 2) I'm too shy to ask one of the available men to dance something I've never danced before, and 3) there are a few more women than men and the woman asked me first. Whew! Just before the dance begins, however, a couple men walk in and ask us ladies to dance.

A grand March can't be that complicated, right? Right! It's wonderful! A perfect warm up! It's a big game of follow-the-leader. You glide about the room in two circles and the couples shuffle like cards in a deck. At certain points, the couples join arms so that you are 4 across, then 8 across, and then you break up into a long chain that swirls and spirals around the room in time with the music. I find myself laughing the whole time!

At the end of the march, people start lining up for the next dance and we three sit down with the intent to learn by watching. One of the regular dancers, however, tips us off that the easy dances come first and we should get into the action now if we want to learn. Up we go to find our places. I ask another partnerless woman to join our group and the dancing begins. It's easier than you think. They teach each dance before you dance it. They don't expect you to know ANYTHING beforehand. My anxiety dissolves instantly.

This form of dancing is particularly social. You are dancing with other people much more than you are dancing with your partner. It's a team effort. Each dance, I find myself bonding with the other people in my line. The pirate couple is particularly fun to dance with because they are the most chatty and lightfooted. Someone takes pictures the whole time we're dancing. Maybe they will post the pictures to their website so you can see it "in action" with so many people.

We dance and dance and dance until it's time to go home. Here we are at the end of the night:

I had a great time, though I missed Julia. There were a couple tall, dark, and handsome guys I would have loved to set her up with...one even had smoldering eyes! Now we have a whole year to work on our outfits for the next Christmas Ball. Gloves, my dear! And the gossamer shawl! And the finery! Uh-oh, I feel another girly squeal coming on.

FYI, I am NOT a girly girl. Usually.