Note: This series of posts is actually post-dated. I’m sharing this first post and will share the remaining posts over the course of the next week. For anyone who has ever considered taking a class like this, I hope that you’ll share a laugh with me and maybe take something away from the reading.
This is why it is never a good idea to surf the internet after drinking wine. You find yourself researching things you might not normally research. And, in some cases, you find yourself signing up for something that you maybe normally would not. With New Year's resolutions still fresh on my mind, I was looking for fun, unique ways to get some exercise in in 2014. It is in this way that I found myself not only visiting the website for "Burlesque MN", but also viewing the class schedule, and signing up for a class in burlesque chair dance. No time to think. The next session starts tomorrow night. I hit "send" and I'm registered.
"Chair dance is a fast-paced flirtatious dance style. Mixing hip hop and sensual movement, this cardio class will make you sweat and feel sexy doing it. In today's world of mixed messages about body image, sexuality and sensuality, people feel confused, disconnected or even ashamed of their bodies. My job is to make them see what I see...that those arms, legs and everything in between are beautiful, fabulous, wonderful vehicles for expression and joy!" - INSTRUCTOR
What follows is a diary of my experiences as I go through the next weeks of classes (or not). As I begin writing this diary, I have no idea what to expect on this adventure, but if I do move forward with this crazy thing, I wanted to have something to look back on to remember the journey. Ok...."let's do this crazy thing!"...
Session Week #1:
I feel foolish calling the studio in the morning to let them know that I won't be attending the first class of the session tonight. The brakes on my car need to be checked after work and also we are expecting lots of snow. Excuses? Yes! Valid? Maybe. Could be when I woke up this morning, without the benefit of wine in my system, I thought "Yikes! What have I done?" In any case, I hang up the phone and tell myself that I'm just being sensible and that I will make no excuses next week. I will go to the next class.
Session Week #2:
I'm not sure it is normal to feel this nervous about going to an exercise class. After locating the studio and parking my car, I sit inside the safety of my conservative Honda SUV for a few moments wondering if I should just throw it in reverse and head back home. But then I ask myself "how bad can it be?:" and remind myself that if I don't even try, I will always wonder. So I step out of my car and take the first steps.
The studio is a large warehouse space with high ceilings and rooms separated only by long hanging curtains giving it an open, airy feeling. I am early so I take a seat on the purple velvet chaise lounge in the waiting area and make conversation with two other women who are also taking the class. As chance would have it, they also were unable to come to the first class so I don't feel quite so much like I'm starting behind. However, that being said, one of them (Katie) has taken this series before, and the other woman (Julia) has not taken chair dance, but has taken many other courses at the studio. So they are confident about being there tonight. They are also younger than I am. Much younger. I would guess that they are the same age as my daughters and I am certain I have shoes in my closet that are older than they are (which is really just an indication that I should clean out my closet rather than any reflection on them!) Anyway, they are very welcoming and tell me right away what a great experience this is going to be.
It's class time and our instructor, "CherryBomb", who is also the owner of the studio, welcomes us and invites us to "grab a chair". Literally. I swallow my breath and my pride as she cranks the music to an eardrum-popping volume and then begins the "warm up" (which is more cardio than I've done in the last 3 months...combined.) Ten minutes into class and I'm dying. And we haven't even finished the warm up.
Then CherryBomb does a quick review of the moves learned last week and introduces us to the new moves for this week. I can't hear a word over the music as she calls out the moves so I am forced to watch her with an extreme intensity in an attempt to copy her movements. It feels very awkward to watch her so closely and I hope she isn't creeped out by the middle-aged woman in the back row...me. The moves are very hard and require balance. I have no balance - I occasionally tip over when just standing still - honestly. They also require significant core strength - of which I have none. And they require lots of focus to make sure you are placing your body correctly in order to balance and not fall off the chair....which I do...twice.
The physical moves are tough but, as I expected, the mental moves are much more difficult. There are five of us in this class with varying ages and body types. I am the oldest and least in shape. They have all come dressed appropriately for a class such as this in form fitting leggings with adorable coordinating tank tops. I am wearing grey sweat pants, a t-shirt, and an oversized sweatshirt - which no matter how hot and sweaty I get during class, I refuse to remove. The instructor is amazing - completely confident, strikingly beautiful, purely athletic and yet very sensual at the same time. She takes us through a number of sequences and though I should be focusing, I can't shake the non-stop internal monologue telling me that....this is silly, I look ridiculous, I shouldn't be here, they are probably all laughing at me, and I can't wait for this to be over.
Surprisingly the hour class flies by and it is over very soon. We gather in a circle on the floor for a cool down. That's when it gets interesting...
CherryBomb: So what song do you guys think we should pick for Showcase?
Me: (Confused look on my face)
CherryBomb: We could go with something really up-tempo or something a bit slower. Thoughts?
Me: I'm sorry....what are you talking about?
CherryBomb: Didn't they tell you when you registered? at the end of the session, we do a "student showcase" and every class performs a routine in front of an audience.
Me: (Look of COMPLETE and UTTER horror on my face!)
CherryBomb: I mean it isn't like totally required or anything, but it is strongly encouraged.
Me: (Smiling reassuringly like I completely expected this)....uh, yeah, uh huh, totally, of course....
CherryBomb: Now....I know we have quite an age range in this class so let's pick something we might all like.
Me: (Thinking: Gee....does Lawrence Welk have any hot new dance music out? What's with the age comment?)
A song is chosen. Not one of my favorites by any means but, to be honest, at this point I'm thinking they can pick whatever song they want because I won't be there anyway. So I nod my head in agreement with their selection. As their conversation migrates to sparkles and leopard-attire, I throw on my socks, winter boots, scarf, hat, wool mittens, and puffy parka, and rush out for the safety of my car. "There," I think, "that humiliation is done and I don't ever have to go back if I don't want to."
On the drive home, I find myself talking to myself...actually talking....like, out loud....like a crazy person. "I should have never even gone to the stupid class. I drove all the way to Minneapolis and it's certainly not "my thing". I had no business being there. I'm way too old and way too out of shape to be doing something like this. I'll probably throw out my back. And besides, what will John think of all this? (Well, honestly, he might not mind too much.) But what would my family think? My daughters? For goodness sake, my grandchildren? My friends? They will probably think I'm doing something I shouldn't be doing and might even be a little embarrassed for me. Yep, I tried it and it wasn't for me. So I'm done..." Confidence. Decision made.
Driving...thinking...driving....thinking.
But the women I talked to at the start of class had such great things to say about it. That it was actually very empowering. Not to mention, it's a really good workout and Lord knows, I could use that. There really isn't anything naughty about it - it's just flirty and fun. I mean...I could see that it could be kind of fun once you got the hang of it. Maybe I could go back for just one more class and then decide if I want to continue on?
By the time I get home, I have myself convinced. I AM going to go back to class. I even go online and order the right kind of lyrical dance shoes. In fact, not only am I going back to class. I AM going to finish the series if it kills me. And not only that, I AM doing that damn showcase - if for no other reason than to show myself that I can.
Morning After: There is NO WAY I'm doing the showcase. In fact, I might not even go back to class. I'm sure I looked ridiculous and what was that comment about "I know we have a big age range in this class" supposed to mean? I don't think that anyone has ever made me feel old before...but that comment did.
Later That Day: I know the instructor didn't mean for her comment to make me feel old. It is my own insecurity that made me hear something in her statement that was not her intent. She isn't responsible for how I feel at all. That is my own responsibility.
Two Days After First Class: I'm sore! The muscles in my legs, hips, abs, arms and shoulders are stiff and sore which leads me to believe that this workout was even more intense than I realized. So I decided to go back to the website to find out a bit more about what I am getting into...
"Our mission here is to awaken the artist in you through dance movement. We do this through a safe, accepting, supportive environment and group involvement. We won't just teach you a dance; we will teach you how to dance. It's going to be a lot of hard work, boundary pushing and amazing achievements. You will laugh, sweat and play. It's the art of being you. So smile, because you are among friends. Because you are beautiful. Because you are strong. Because you will grow."
Well...we'll see...
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