I haven't taken a dance class in over three years. Before then, I was a fairly good dancer. Admittedly nothing spectacular, but I had rhythm, some solid technique, a modicum of style, and could count to eight. Not bad.
As part of my new regime I took stock and realized it was time to dust off my La Duca's (AKA tennis shoes) and finally partook in my first dance class after spending the last three years primarily singing and acting. With a painted smile not unlike a geisha and a faint remembrance of how to move I walked into Lori Leshner's Musical Theater Jazz class at CAP21. Let me preface this by saying I used to dance all the time. Every day for at least five years.
I was a trainwreck.
Nothing worked. Any technique I once had seemed completely out of reach; all my flexibility was out the window. My brain couldn't string sequences of movement together. My body couldn't relate to the steps, and any muscle memory of basic dance vocabulary was pretty much nil. And I loved it. I was so bad, but I was so excited that I had actually started to dance again that I didn't care how embarrassing I was. And embarrassing is definitely the word for it.
I guess you start somewhere. And it's always harder than you remember, but more rewarding than you anticipated. I'm going back next week.
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