Getting in the swing

I had my first dance class of the year on Monday. When I picked up dance, it was my birthday present to myself – I decided at the time that I would do lessons from July until December (the studio closed for a couple weeks over Christmas/New Year) and I would revise how I felt about it then.

That way, I couldn’t let myself go “wah had a bad day wah never going back”, I had to, y’know, act like a grownup and keep doing something even if it went wonky. And it did, I had one exceptionally bad few weeks (got sick, missed a lesson, went back the next week and was probably actually still ill, couldn’t get my feet behaving, couldn’t spin without getting dizzy, wah wah wah). But I kept going back!

Turns out that I was really excited at the thought of going back to lessons again. I missed them in my two weeks off. And I returned on Monday, and the female instructor (who is a gorgeous brilliant barely 20 year old tiny blonde who I am envious of) gave me a hug to welcome me back – she’s that kind of person, huggy and friendly and chatty and perky-pretty – and I’m happy to be back there. Salsa, bachata, and chacha lessons this week, all of which I performed at completely successfully for a beginner, despite finding it quite difficult to poke my hips around as much as one is supposed to for bachata.

I mean, with a backside the size of mine, I spend my life trying to minimise it’s waggle, not stick it in people’s faces all “hi, here is my bum!” Ditto my bust, I cannot shimmy for crap, which you’d think should be fairly easy for me to do. I just can’t bring myself to shake my boobs like that!

Anyway.

Between the bachata and chacha classes, my teachers danced. I love watching them together, it’s a real pleasure to watch someone so skilled do what they’re good at. I don’t know if I have the ability ever to be that good – frankly, I’d need to be a LOT thinner first – but I am having fun learning. And in the end, isn’t that the point?

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