dance class

After my usual 30 minutes on the treadmill (running, mind you, not walking) and 15 on the wobbly bike, I figured that my cardio workouts haven't been delivering as well as they used to. For some reason my weight has plateaued, I even gained back 2 pounds from the 5 I thought I had lost two weeks ago. So I decided to take a class.

The only class I was able to join was Latin groove, or at least it sounded like that. I asked the attendant what the class was about. "Dancing-dancing lang po," she replied. Oh, okay, this shouldn't be too hard, I told myself.

As soon as I hit my first few steps, awful memories of high school came flooding back. I was born with two left feet and a body as flexible as a crowbar, and was like that ever since. I had never danced in front of an audience before, save for one shining moment in my freshman year. After that all my dance moves consisted of jerky arm movements and Running Man.

The salsa numbers consisted of flowing arm movements and hip-swaying, shouder-shaking, bootylicious moves. Imagine me swaying my hips and shaking my ass like J. Lo. If I had any more fun I'd have spanked my own butt in class several times.

For the most part, seeing myself dance (mirrors everywhere, the horror!), was funny. I was laughing my way through each song because I was totally out of sync with the steps, and whenever flowing arm movements were called for, I regressed to jerky arm movements. I just couldn't control myself.