Tonight I went to a hip-hop class. To truly appreciate the humor in this, you must first know that I am 42 years old. While 42 is not old, at least that is what I like to tell myself, it's not the age where you suddenly realize that what has been missing in your life is hip hop dancing. But at my daughter's last dance class for the year, the teacher handed out a schedule of "Adult" classes. Hip hop fit into my schedule (the most important factor in deciding anything) and also fit into my decision to reacquaint myself with my sports bra and get some exercise. Plus, I would get to meet some of the other mothers.
So, there I went. The first thing that I noticed when I walked in was that the other people waiting were young. I don't mean 30's young, I don't even mean 20's young, I mean teen-age young. Great. I suddenly felt like one of those people that I made fun of at Malibu for being too "ancient" to be there.
We started with stretches. OK, I can handle that. Then push-ups. PUSH-UPS? Then ab crunches. CRUNCHES? I didn't come here to actually exercise, I came here to dance!! (said in my best Kevin Bacon as Ren McCormack rebellious voice.) But then we danced. Learned a routine to the song that I think may be called "Low".
I would consider myself a person with rhythm. "Back in the day" I spent every weekend out dancing and was fairly proud of my 80's moves. However, back in this day, I felt like a fish, flopping around while a bunch of other, much more coordinated fish, did all their best fishy moves around me. At one point the teacher, seeing the frustration on my face looked at me and said "it gets easier."
I do plan to go back next week. I did get a good workout. Hell, maybe I can inspire those young girls to keep doing stuff like that when they, too, become ancient.
No comments:
Post a Comment