Thursday, 27 February 2014

A night of desperately trying not to do the White Girl Dance.

I went to my first salsa class on Tuesday night. I had turned up thinking that it was going to be in some dance studio somewhere, however when I got there, I found it was a Cuban bar full of couples throwing each other about all over the place.

The class was really good. People were separated into their beginner/intermediate/expert groups and I'm always a fan of exercise that also includes alcohol. Naturally, being our first time there, One-And-Only-Daniela and I were in the beginners class. We basically stood in a circle, learnt a move and then changed partners. I think I did okay, although my complete inability to be able to tell my right from my left became a massive problem throughout the lesson. I just about got the footwork right, but then they expected me to know the rights and lefts of my hands at the same time! I think we can all agree that that may be just a little too much to ask of a person.

Having said that, I picked it up well, although immediately regretted my choice of clothes. Firstly, being a bar/club atmosphere, the ladies were all dolled up and looking sassy and what not. I, on the other hand, had run home, ripped off my work uniform and picked up the first thing I had laid my hands on, which had turned out to be baggy trousers and a top I have had for at least 6 years, which I'm pretty certain had holes all over it. Also, my face was completely devoid of make up which always gains a "you look tired" or "you don't look very well" comment whenever that happens, and my hair was thrown into a bun on the bus to the bar. All in all, if we had to choose a word to describe my image on Tuesday night, we would choose "rough." I've definitely looked better and I pretty much looked terrifying in comparison to every other lady there.

I went to the class with One-And-Only-Daniela and Working-On-A-Nickname-Tshepiso, both of whom were dolled up and looking awesome. I kinda liked that I hadn't made an effort however, as it meant that, once the class was over and the freestyle dancing began, I was pretty much left alone and not forced to make a fool of myself as I was thrown around the dance floor with some form of Cuban God. Instead, I snuggled into the corner of my table, hugged my glass of rose and watched the others do it.

Don't get me wrong, I'm completely on board with the whole dancing thing. I just would prefer to do it when I have the slightest idea of what I'm doing because that dance floor was carazy! There were so many bodies flying around the floor space, I genuinely feared for my life when I had to walk past it. If I had been dragged up that night, all that would have happened would have been the following:

1. Man spins me
2. I fall flat on my face
3. Man picks me up
4. Man attempts armography with me
5. I twist and pull a muscle, crumpling to a heap on the floor
6. Man picks me up
7. Man spins me out
8. I lose grip of man's hand and go flying into the four couples behind me
9. We all fall to the floor
10. I look for man to pick me up again
11. Man has run away

I think, for the sake of not only my own health, but of those around me, my choice to hide in the corner for this week was a wise one.

However, One-And-Only-Daniela and Working-On-A-Nickname-Tshepiso did manage to convince me to dance with them towards the end. Although, they had both decided that they were just going to teach me the basics in any other type of dance than the 'White-Girl-Dance' I am so good at.

One-And-Only-Daniela has been trying to teach me to Wine since she has known me, which has been 5 years now. I thought I had made progress in this area, however, trying this with these two ladies on Tuesday night, I had never felt so much like the classic White Girl Who Can't Dance.

Having said all of this, I am going to leave on a positive note. I will not give up on this. Next week, I'm going to put on some make up, wear something that wasn't designed to hide as much of my figure as possible, and just go nuts! Hell, I might even splash out and brush my hair... possibly... if I can be bothered. Also, I'm going to bring silly amounts of chewing gum/mints, due to the closeness that I apparently need to get to other people. Seriously, I couldn't concentrate on anything else due to the fact that I was acutely aware I had just had a Disoronno and Coke before starting to dance and I had nasty alcohol breath. All my interactions with all partners in my class consisted of a simple smile, nod or shake of my head. It became all I could think about.

But I had to say, I totally was able to get close to strange men and not completely freak out or giggle, which was where I was at about two years ago, now that? That is what we call progress. Just another two years and I might actually learn a dance move or two. I can wait, I'm not doing much.

Peace out my lovelies

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