Sweet Moves, Yo

Tomorrow I am planning on attending a workout Burlesque dance class with a friend. I simply cannot wait to see how much material I can get for my blog. I am about as talented dance-wise as your bald, middle-aged uncle, who thinks he has moves (he also still thinks his cellphone belt clip is what the cool kids have). If I wanted to, I could make a video of my dancing, upload it onto YouTube and, easily, I could be the next William Hung. I am BAD. BAD.
Why am I doing this then? Well, I would actually like to find my sexy. I know it is in there. It’s just hiding under my insecurity, my spastic muscles, and my inability to find anything resembling a rhythm. If I try hard enough, learn to count and move at the same time, and allow my body to move to the beat, it is possible that someday I will not look like I am having a seizure when I am attempting to dance. Maybe.
In honor of this dance class tomorrow, I am re-posting a piece I did on my blog I began while living in BFE Elko. I took a Zumba class and the result was pure hilarity.
I am such a masochist. I am also a really horrible dancer. Yes, I tried Zumba for the second time, despite the fact that I can’t dance for anything.  I actually stepped on my own two left feet. Let me try to express to the fullest of my ability how bad I am at moving my body in an even remotely sexy manner…
First, I thought that the people I was going with were amateurs, like me. WRONG. One girl minored in dance in college. She looked better than the instructor. Now I know why she wanted to be in the front! What was I thinking agreeing to that?! Seeing myself front and center next to JLO did nothing for my self esteem. Then, to my right, another dancer who was counting the steps. Counting the what? You mean there are steps in dancing? And you have to count them? Behind me, a friend who was not afraid to let out her sexy wild woman self and let me tell you, she was truly shaking it. Me? I was stiff as a board and I had as much rhythm as an albatross. I looked like I was having a stroke at one point. It was bad, really bad. There was this move where you had to bend your knees and jump forward, sexily…LORD. Probably the worst move involved shaking our asses as we bent forward. I felt like I should apologize to the person behind me. My ass didn’t stop shaking for an hour after class.
Besides being surrounded by supposed “amateurs”, again, thanks guys… I was also surrounded by mirrors. As I mentioned above, I was persuaded to stand front and center, in front of the mirror. It would have been half alright if I didn’t have to be reminded every second how truly awful I was. I had to WATCH myself. It was truly nightmarish. At one point I decided it would be best to just laugh instead of maintain my determined face; that way no one would think I was actually serious with my ridiculous moves.
Next, dancing is EXHAUSTING, folks! What the hell? I understand now why all those club addicts are so skinny. Oh, and why Britney Spears has thighs the size of my big head.  I was in agony. My thighs and calves were burning and my knees wanted to give in. I was dripping sweat and just looked a mess. I made the mistake to look over at “Miss Minored in Dance” and she was glistening beautifully with sweat. Grrr.  I was so exhausted that I soon couldn’t do two things at once. Move my arms and legs? At the same time? Forget it…
HOWEVER, and this is a big however (notice how it is capitalized), I actually enjoyed myself and got a hell of a workout. I looked physically challenged, yes, but there were others similar to me (none quite as bad, but close). The third (most recent) time I attended I went with a friend who was more like me and we laughed and laughed and laughed at each other. My abs got a good workout as well as my growing thighs.
So, if you attend the Zumba class Fridays, in Elko, I apologize in advance. My spastic ass will be in attendance and my advice to you is to try not to look too much. I think I am getting better…

0 thoughts on “Sweet Moves, Yo”

  1. Hahaha! UPLOAD THE VIDEO! I have this uncle who has the weirdest drunk moves he attempts even when he’s sober. I made him my unofficial permanent dance partner for any family function- that way nobody notices the lanky stick swaying (me) since they’ll be busy wondering if he’s getting electrocuted or not. Despite all my loved ones collective groans when I rush to the dance floor, I have always loved dancing 😀 Shake away! 😉

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