I started watching “Dance Moms” when I was 11-years-old and consistently watched it for years until my favorite dancers left — oh — and until Abby Lee got sent to federal prison.

Watching the show from the comfort of my living room couch, I had a lot of confidence in the dancer that I wasn’t.

Meaning, I had a lot to say when I didn’t even know what a plié was, and I would almost always agree with Abby. Kendall and Paige are crybabies, and Brooke gave up on her potential. 

I even pretended to be a dance instructor before I even took lessons and I began coaching my little sister. 

How did I do that? Absolutely no idea, but I think she’s a great dancer. My parents finally put me in dance, and I was truly humbled.

For starters, apparently you have to be a great dancer to be on a competition team. After my first class, it was clear I would never go to nationals. I can not dance — despite my extensive “Dance Moms” experience. There are some things in this world that can not be taught. 

I have very few redeeming traits, and dancing is NOT one of them. No, I’m not naming them.

Here is a list of why I would constantly be at the bottom of the pyramid:

Crying.

Dancing aside, I would just be at the bottom of the pyramid because of how much I would’ve cried from Abby just talking. 

I’m a very sensitive person and I cry a lot. It’s very easy for me to cry, like if someone slightly raised their voice at me I would turn into a walking thunderstorm. 

Abby yells a lot and throws chairs at children. I would be kicked out of the room and placed on the bottom just for a voice crack when Abby asks me why I’m on the bottom. 

I trip over my own two feet. 

I consistently trip over air, and if I didn’t trip a minimum of 100 times in a week it would be an off week for me. 

I’m about as coordinated as someone wearing heels for the very first time. Not a baby heel that your mom wants you to wear, but a “it’s my eighth grade graduation — I’m wearing heels” kind of heel. 

I sprained my ankle in high school by landing on my own two feet. I would be at the bottom of the pyramid because I’m a liability — not to Abby — but to myself.

I would forget the routine.

My anxiety causes me to basically black out when performing, so I only remember walking on and off. 

States in 2015 haunt me because I had a big part in a section, where I basically had a solo. I completely blew it because I was dancing on a sprained ankle and did not jump when I was supposed to, so I ended up standing as stiff as a wooden ruler for four counts.

This is the part where Abby would probably turn to Abby in the audience and try to get a reasonable answer out of her. 

This mistake would cost everyone the group routine, I would get yelled at in the dressing room and benched at the next competition.

That actually happened, but at least my ankle partly recovered.

Just because she can.

Questioning Abby was a no-go, and I’m a very curious person.

My parents say that I never left my “why?” childhood phase. I could ask why I’m at the bottom, which would be followed by crying because Abby would yell at me for not knowing the answer to my own question. 

Also, just out of spite. If Abby didn’t like you, she made sure that you knew.

I’ve gotten comfortable at the bottom of the pyramid, but with Abby out of the way, I would be a pretty decent dance instructor. I have my extensive watch history with the show, the forced practice with my sister, I won’t make children cry and to make up for my haunting mistake — I’ll make sure everyone gets through a full eight count.