DANCE, LITTLE LADY, DANCE

I am not cut out to be a housewife. After weeks of being housebound, I discovered this profound facet to my personality. I need the constant stimulation of having people around me most, if not all, the time. Agreed, being around an energetic toddler is fun, but two months of watching Pogo was really beginning to tell on my psyche.

Things came to a head when I noticed the other members of my family tiptoeing around me. I have a feeling that my imitation of a snapping wolf at their simplest queries had something to do with this. This was when I decided to throw caution to the winds and enrolled myself in a dance class. This was an extremely brave thing to do for one who was born with two left feet and had no concept of this mysterious thing called rhythm.
So off I went, all togged out in my new pink tracksuit and hair up in a ponytail. The least I could do was to look the part even if I couldn’t dance to save my life!!!

Did I say I was brave? Let me amend that statement. I think the dance teacher happens to be the bravest soul I know. He took one look at what passed for my dance moves and did not bat an eyelash. Of course, he did turn pale under his tan, but I am going to put it down to the heat in the gym.

Three weeks later, and I still have not been thrown out of the class. I call that progress. Yeah, I have been asked to dance with a group of school going kids, but hey, at least I am dancing!!!

Best of all, my pathetic attempts at moving my body to the beat have won me a lot of sympathizers, who keep trying to help me figure out the contortions that pass for free-style dancing. Their sympathies I soon hope to convert to friendship. Hurrah for dance class!!!!