No one has ever accused me of being a good dancer. When I was younger and less jiggly, I was a very energetic dancer, making up for what I lacked in rhythm with bouncy legs and flailing arms, but as my cardio-vascular fitness has decreased, my glaring lack of any sense of inner tempo has become more pronounced. Nowhere has this been more evident to me than in my cardio-salsa class. This was week 1 and also week last for me. There were three other women of similar vintage and size in my class being led by a very tiny hip swaying instructor in a room bordered on three sizes by full length mirrors.
First, there was nowhere to hide when my hops were meant to go right and my stomach and chest swung left. It’s hard enough to see one’s own body swing in such and awkward manner, but to know the same moving picture is visible to the rest of the class is unsettling.
The second problem was the steps. Since many of you offered so many sage pieces of advice about my cluttering calamities, I know you are all familiar with the over-cluttered brain disorder from which I am currently suffering. I do not have room to remember the names of all of my friends, I certainly cannot remember 1,2,3, back, 5,6,7. So while my head is supposed to held high and looking only at my forlorn shape in the mirror for support, my eyes are actually glues to my toes, hoping to guide them in the appropriate steps before I have to succumb to a huge eye strain headache.
And finally, the hip sways, arm movements and booty shakes themselves. Ever notice how line dancers usually hold their upper bodies straight and work their legs kinetically. Salsa dancers through the whole body into the sensual movements. This is difficult when you come from the Billy Crystal School of Dancing and specialize in the "white woman’s overbite". I look like a cardboard cut out stapled atop some tangled tree trunks that are blowing sideways in the wind. And I know this because it is impossible to move like this and not catch sight of myself in the mirror.
Fortunately, 40 minutes into my Karmic time out for anyone I had every embarrassed or humiliated, the cd began to skip and our intrepid beat counter and dirty dancer had to go play DJ for a few minutes. While she fiddled with the stereo, I picked up my water bottle and towel and skulked out of there, not even saying good-bye.
The good news is that in a day where I have precious few free minutes, I now know that I do not have to spend them doing Salsa dances. The bad news is, I can’t Salsa and it still looks so cool.
My brother once told me I have the coordination of a soccer mom. It wasn’t a compliment. I avoid all aerobics classes for this very reason – I don’t actually get a workout, because I spend most of my time trying to figure out the moves. There used to be a great class at a gym I went to where the cardio portion of the class was just running and jumping jacks. I did that class religiously for two years until the instructor left and some dancey girl took her place. I was done.
Ah, Elizabeth…I love that last line! Kudos to you for even trying…I would never be caught dead in a salsa class! I personally swear by yoga. It’s not a cardio workout (although surprisingly intense for something so relaxing) but it is so soul-and body-regenerating that I am psychically drooling just thinking about it. Must. Go. To Yoga Class!