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Salsa classes are proceeding apace. I seem to have gotten over the terrible stumbling block I hit after the flu – I spent two weeks of classes falling over my own feet and unable to process the instructor’s requests through my brain and out my feet.

After a frankly rather childish episode wherein I ripped off my (high-heeled) dancing shoes, whilst proclaiming “I have had ENOUGH!” and went through the rest of the class defiantly barefoot, things finally came together. I am having fun, and have started doing two classes a week.

There was also the day where left and right were apparently alien concepts, and I kept turning in the wrong direction, much to the general chagrin of whoever I was attempting to dance with and had to for example ensure that my misdirected elbows did not connect with their face. Thankfully everyone is very patient, as we all have various stumbling blocks on various concepts and it is mostly fortuitous that so far, very few of these stumbling blocks involve each other’s feet.

Yesterday, after a month of dancing in flats, I went to class with my proper dancing heels again. Somewhere along the lines, my brain-foot connection had reformed, and despite some general malcoordination as a result of the Tireds, I actually did quite well.

I need not to wear the dress I wore last night. It turns out it does the lovely swirly-standing-out thing when you spin, which is quite impressive for a very cheap jersey dress from the Warehouse. This would not traditionally be a problem with ballroom dancing, but it makes it a bit complicated when I am trying to consider Where My Feet Are At as opposed to How I Look Doing It, and also creates the unexpected issue of Help, My Dance Partner Is Trying to Block Me and I Can’t Stop Because My Dress Keeps Going! My legs have that lovely warm burn of “you did exercise!” today.

The dance studio does other things than salsa, of course. I have plans to try a zouk beginner’s class in the weeks preceding Christmas – it’s on directly after my salsa class – and belly dance next year. I’ve variously allowed lack of funds, self-consciousness, work timetables, and other sillinesses to be, well, stumbling blocks. Now I’m actually putting on my Big Girl Panties, getting off my capacious bottom, doing something I enjoy and probably getting fitter while I’m at it. I do wish I’d gotten over myself years ago…

Originally published at spinneretta.com
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