details of a domestic goddess

part-time SAHM to four kids: Bear (96), Schmoo (99), Hercules (01), and Princess (02). I wear many hats, including that of the chef, maid, nanny, chauffeur, accountant, triage nurse, laundress, educator, admin assistant, maintenance, gardener, weekend warrior, and just mom too. when i'm not busy momming, i get up at 2am to go to work as an international spy.

26 August 2006

it's all about the self-esteem

Life is about growing, changing, trying new things. Learning doesn't stop at the classroom door. Right, right. So I'm taking a class. It's not an ordinary class; it's a dance class. I do a little homework ahead of time. Find out what to wear, a little of what to expect. Read bios about the instructors. I leave my wedding ring at home, for safety reasons. I'm thinking ahead. I'm prepared. I can do this, right?

I am not prepared. I actually arrive a bit late; honestly it really was the traffic. So the instructor has already begun when I have to sneak through the back of the class to find my own space. That in itself is a bit difficult because it seems almost everyone is stationed along the back wall. Right where I want to be. Where no one can see how badly I dance. But the purpose of taking a class is to become better at something, to acheive or master a skill in the process of learning. Boy, do I need help in here.

The lights are dimmed. Lenny Kravitz's cover of "American Woman" pulses through the room. I feel so out of place. I also feel like the oldest woman in the room. Someone who shouldn't be there, even though the dance company touts that this class is for all women of all ages and all shapes. I see my friend across the room and giggle nervously at her as she follows the instructions from the teacher.

"That's right ladies, play a little now and stand up nice and slow. The only way to stand up in this class is with your feet apart and your tushie in the air. Show 'em what you've got. Trace yourself out here and play with your hair a little. Show 'em your moneymaker. Sexy strut around your pole. Now let's have a smack and I want to hear it, ladies. Nice. We're going to do some stretches now to warm up and then well start learning some spins. Everyone stand on the right side, get a good grip on your pole and lean out. Let gravity do the work; you should feel the pull all along your ribcage..."

That's right, I said pole. I went to pole dancing class. It was a unique experience and a killer workout. I have a new and profound respect for the women who do this kind of work 8-12 hours a day. They certainly do earn their money. For 24 hours afterwards, I am in excruciating pain from the muscle strain of learning the proper way to jump, as well as the Catch Spin, Fireman Spin, Pike Spin, and a "Showcase." I have several bruises and contact burns on my ankles and shins from spinning improperly. But I've got that Fireman Spin down pat! I was doing all this barefoot. Some of my more experienced classmates were taking their instruction wearing six-inch platform heels or those huge black patent leather boots. Talk about coordination!

The thing I would like to change about this experience is that I would like to actually be able to dance afterwards. You know, hold a rhythm and feel confident about my *ahem* moves. I have to say, I will most likely go back. Next time I'll wear something a little more form fitting so I don't look as frumpy. My abs are feeling better and the pain in my arms is getting less noticable. I haven't taken Tylenol all day today! I just hope I can find a class going on while the kids are in school.

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