Why Dancing in Your Kitchen Should Be Prescribed on the NHS
If joy had a soundtrack, it would be whatever song you blast while waiting for the kettle to boil. If joy had a location, it would be your kitchen - messy, lived-in, slightly sticky, but somehow the perfect setting for a spontaneous boogie. Dancing in your kitchen is one of the simplest, most underrated mood-boosters available to womankind, which is why I firmly believe it should be available on prescription.
Kettle on? Music up. Good vibes imminent.
A Zone Where No One Is Judging You (Not Even You)
The kitchen is one of the few places where women can be gloriously unhinged without an audience. You can shimmy while stirring pasta. You can perform a dramatic ballad to your toaster. You can throw shapes that would get you thrown out of most respectable establishments. No pressure. No performance. No one recording you for TikTok.
It’s freedom in its purest form.
Why It Feels So Good (Even When You Can’t Dance)
Women carry stress in their bodies - in our shoulders, jaws, hips, and backs. We clench without realising. We power through. We hold everything together. Dancing shakes off that tension in a way nothing else does. It’s basically emotional exfoliation.
And doing it in the kitchen - the very place where so much of our daily labour happens - makes it even sweeter. For a few minutes, you’re not a chef, cleaner, planner, coordinator, snack-fetcher, or multitasking machine. You’re just… you. Moving your body because it feels good.
Reclaiming a Space That’s Done Enough Work
For generations, the kitchen was a place where women worked, not played. Even now, emotional and domestic labour often falls disproportionately on our shoulders. Dancing there flips the script. It turns a site of responsibility into a site of joy.
You’re not there serving anyone.
You’re not there performing competence.
You’re there finding your spark.
A Shortcut to Feeling Like Yourself Again
Some days, you feel disconnected - stretched thin, foggy, flat. Then one song comes on, and suddenly, you’re reanimated. Your shoulders drop. Your head bops. Your hips sway. You feel more alive in your skin. It’s like plugging yourself back into the mains.
You don’t even need high energy. A gentle sway while sipping tea counts.
Dancing as a Love Letter to Your Inner Child
Remember when you were little, and dancing was automatic? You didn’t care what you looked like. You didn’t care who was watching. Joy was reason enough. Kitchen dancing reconnects you with that version of yourself - the carefree girl who didn’t censor her happiness.
She’s still in there. You just have to give her a song.
A Ritual of Joy That Costs Nothing
Not everything good for your wellbeing needs to be expensive, or structured, or productivity-enhancing. You don’t need a gym membership. You don’t need snazzy leggings. You don’t need a mindfulness coach named Willow.
All you need is:
A kitchen
A song
A moment for yourself
That’s it. Zero cost, maximum serotonin.
Memories That Live in the Kitchen Walls
Some of the best friendships and relationships grow up around kitchen dance floors - tipsy nights with friends, slow sways with partners, silly bops with kids on your hip. These moments stick to the walls like warmth.
And when you dance alone today, you’re adding another layer to those memories. Another thread to the story.
Movement That’s Joyful, Not Punishing
So much messaging around exercise tells women to shrink themselves. Tone up. Burn calories. Fix flaws. Kitchen dancing rebels against all of that. There’s no goal. No tracking. No judgement. Just the pure, delicious feeling of movement.
It’s exercise for the soul.
Why I’d Prescribe It (If Anyone Would Let Me)
Imagine if instead of “try relaxing,” women were told: “Pop on your favourite song and dance in your kitchen for two minutes. Take as needed.”
Imagine how many moods would lift. How many hearts would soften? How much stress would dissolve? How many women would feel more like themselves again?
Tonight, Give Yourself Permission
So when you next wander into the kitchen - to make tea, to unload the dishwasher, to escape your family for 30 seconds - put on a song you love. One that makes your toes wiggle involuntarily. One that makes you grin before you even realise why.
Then dance. Badly. Joyfully. Softly. Wildly.
However, you want.
Because this tiny act of everyday joy isn’t silly.
It’s medicine.
It’s grounding.
It’s yours.
