Like Nobody’s Watching

Someone recently jogged my memory that I hadn’t updated y’all on Project Dance lately. I’d hate for anyone to think that I don’t practice what I preach and had abandoned the effort. Nope, I’m still toughing it out on a weekly basis to comical results.

I ended up going with the lyrical hip hop class after all and we’ve just started our second routine (retiring Knock You Down in favor of Timbaland’s The Way I Are*). It involves floor work. So Flashdance it hurts. No, it actually hurts, f’reals. I keep bouncing my hip off the floor instead of floating down gracefully.

Photo by dydcheung

The instructor and I have also come to some sort of unspoken understanding, wherein I give it my all and she focuses on critiquing the form of the legitimate dancers in the room instead of tut-tutting over my sub-standard moves. This is likely a sanity-saving measure on her part. You can’t exactly tell someone to hear the beat better or develop an innate sense of musicality between now and next Wednesday. It also means I can relax and just enjoy myself without worrying about judgment.

Which is a good thing, because, while there’s been some modest progress ( I understand the logic behind isolations if not the execution) since last we spoke, I haven’t exactly improved by (literal) leaps and bounds. I habitually trail my classmates by a move or two and while their body waves look appropriately music video hot, mine is all I’m a Little Teapot up in the house (seriously, you try moving your ribcage in a circle while keeping your hips completely still). Also, the part in the warm-up where we’re supposed to do these graceful, controlled little kicks? I’m still roundhousing like Chuck Norris. I mean, if you’re gonna kick, you should really kick, right? And I’m having an ethical dilemma about the chest pop. Thrusting my chest out like that is pretty presumptuous. What if you don’t want my boobs all in your face like that? And what if they’d sort of rather hang back and play it cool themselves? You can see why I’m conflicted. Well, you can’t literally see. Trust me, it’s better (and less salacious) that way.

Classes end on Dec 9, so I have a few weeks to figure out what my next edifying endeavor will be. Any suggestions? Although the more I ponder the notion of starting my own post-modern matchmaking service, the more I realize what a truly brilliant idea I may have stumbled across…

* This video confuses me. What is with the guys juggling soccer balls in the sewer? And I think Timbaland might be holding out, because even though he claims not to be solvent, dude and his posse seem to be rocking some pretty expensive threads.