Do you remember when your child first decided they were not going to wear the clothes you put out for them--and insisted on choosing their own?
I think it was probably at about 4 or 5 years old, when I was first a Mummy. As most of their clothes had been bought by us Mummies, their choice was not too bad.
Some years later, when they were gaining a little control over the clothes bought (with a few additions of their own) they could look (to our eyes) pretty awful! And we had to grit our teeth and believe that they 'would learn'.
I've now reached the next stage--where neither I, nor my 'daughter-the-would-be-dancer', have any say in what she will be wearing.
I await 6.30 on Saturday evening with bated breath. Waiting for her to dance is anxiety-raising enough, but having to see what SCD designers have decided she will wear is equally stressful|
Oh to go back to being 3 years old--or maybe not! Because whatever she (and the other dancers) look like, and however flattering or unflattering I might think it is, I wouldn't miss the glamour and 'pazazz' for anything.
To see the joy of all the dancers is infectious and uplifting, and I love it.
Every week that DD is dancing is a bonus--and we know that every week might be her last.
At this moment I do not even know if she will make the Hallowe'en evening.
But talking Strictly does make a change from talking about the weather... 
[just hope the forecast storm dies out before reaching the UK] 