A couple of months ago, I won a series of ballroom dance lessons – the grand prize from a raffle drawing at a luncheon I attended.
Little did I know what a grand prize it really was going to be. After a few months, I finally scheduled a lesson. Walking into the spacious studio, I was immediately greeted and introduced to my dance instructor, who immediately took my hand and guided me to the bright, large dance floor. Uh-oh. I’m already intimidated.
My instructor was this 23-year-old cutie with the most gorgeous blue eyes ever. He looked like he could be my son. We jumped right into it. Waltz, Fox Trot, Rumba, Hustle, Swing, you name it. So fun! The 45-minute class flew by. I scheduled a second class that night, although I still had trouble looking him in the eye, due to my stage fright.
I woke up the next day, and my arms, legs, feet and back were sore! Really? I’m so freaking old. A 45-minute class and I can barely move. But I went back the next day, determined this time to work out the kinks. After all, it was a good workout.
This time, Duncan (my hottie dance teacher) showed me the correct way to hold his arms. Right arm resting on his shoulder, left arm resting on his large forearm muscle.
That will be easy to find, I said to myself. I resisted the temptation to squeeze it.
This time the moves were little easier. I was a disco queen back in the 70s, so this sort of dance came easily to me. Like riding a bicycle. But much better.
With the basic moves down, Duncan began to do some spins, pivots, and even a little hip movement with the dances. I say a little hip movement, because that was all my hips could move – a little. I felt like the Tin Man in “The Wizard of Oz.” But it was better than the day before.
I returned the next week, and scheduled a double lesson, which was 90 minutes. This time, something was happening. I confidently took Duncan’s hand as we walked on to the dance floor. I rested my right hand on his shoulder and my left hand on his muscled bicep, squeezing it just a little.
Duncan began to move his hips to the music. Follow my lead, he said. Miraculously, my hips moved in alignment with his. I still got it, I thought to myself. My back stood straighter, my shoulders swayed in unison with Duncan’s. I was starting to dance with a little attitude!
Ninety minutes flew by. I walked in with a horrible mood, and walked out feeling sexy, confident, and blissful. And, worked up a good sweat! I’m definitely going to continue. Getting my groove back was my grand prize.
And by the way, Duncan and I are entering a dance competition in June!
Wish us luck!
Barbara Bishop is President of Santa Monica-based BBPR, Inc. For comments or suggestions, email firstname.lastname@example.org.