I’ve never been good at dancing. My earliest memory of it is being kicked out of my ballet class at a kid, as far as I remember, for walking around in circles on my tippy toes when everyone else was doing freestyle interpretive dance. (It turns out walking didn’t count as ballet.)
Despite this less than awesome dancing pedigree, I’ve always thought that I’d be a pretty good dancer, should I have the chance to try it… AND I love movies with dancing in them. I’ve seen Step Up hundreds of times, for example, surely some of that has permeated.
Anyway, one of my (many) (ambitious) New Year’s resolutions for this year – the year of having awesome skills – was to learn how to Salsa Dance. I started last week, and was actually kind of fabulous at it. Mostly because there were no mirrors. Fabulous is subjective when there are no mirrors.
Last year I gave the ChaCha a go and hated every last stupid second of it. The ChaCha is not my dance.
Salsa is totally different because you get to dance with people in this class, and it’s totally simple so far. Plus I got to wear a swirly skirt and swivel my hips lots, so that satisfies the inner five-year old that basically spends entire days at work wishing she could be wearing a skirt that goes out when she spins around really fast.
The only thing that could make dancing the salsa better at this point is a hat with fruit on it and maybe a pair of maracas, because who doesn’t love maracas?