Sometimes I wish I could dance. Really rip it up on the dance floor. Most times however you’ll find me in the corner sipping a drink or after too many drinks
flailing my arms about in a way that can only be described as totally scary. As of late I have also adopted somehow my mother’s signature dance move-clapping. Move to the left-clap. Move to the right-clap. Scrunch the shoulders-oh yeah. I’m white. Get down.
My friends Wendy and Jenna are great dancers. Sexy dancers if you will. My boyfriend can also cut a rug in a natural, cool, sexy way. Needless to say I am totally jealous.
A few years ago a friend of mine took a hip-hop dance class. Partially for a joke but also for a good work out. After talking it over with her I decided to sign myself up-in the privacy of a totally different gym than hers. I had high hopes that I would walk in like the uptight white girl that I am and leave as loose and limber as a backup dancer for Britney Spears. No chance.
When I arrived at the class I was a little early. The room was everything I’d imagined it to be-floor to ceiling mirrors, wood floors and a booming stereo system. I walked into what appeared to be the last lesson finishing up-the teacher an Enrique Iglesias looking guy and his student some hot Asian chick in striped leg warmers. I watched as they grinded on top of one another to the beat. They were truly incredible. It was like watching people have public sex.
When class started the room began to fill up with seven to fifteen-year-olds. I started to get flushed in the face, my heart racing. I must be in the wrong class. After approaching Enrique I whispered, ‘Hi…sorry to bother you…I think I might be in the wrong class…” But I wasn’t. I was in the right class and once I found that out I hid in the back. When the music started these kids broke into moves I’d only seen in music videos as I struggled to keep the beat. Self-conscious the entire time, I couldn’t achieve what I had come there to do which was LOOSEN UP. Nor could I shake off the stares from the others around me wondering who brought their uptight babysitter to class.
I haven’t given up on my dream to one day be a good dancer. However for now it will remain something I do in the privacy of my own home. And this is a good thing. For all.