Tuesday, May 08, 2007
I'm still going to salsa classes though real life film and fun events have interfered with my steady schedule. So I go when I can, each class harder than the last to walk into. You'd think that'd be the opposite since I've been going since August. For awhile some months ago maybe it was getting easier - I was in the flow, getting better, feeling really good about the immersion. Then John's Monday master class knocked out that preferred class, with conflicts on the good Thursdays and least interesting Sundays as well. Now it's the same syndrome: what should I wear? (How to downplay my natural zaftig voluptuous shape, stay covered, yet not too hot?) Will anyone dance with me during the warm-up? Often that's a no, except for guys I don't want to dance with either. For some it's a height thing, for others age. I'm sure weight's a factor too. I'm come to understand how most of the guys are trolling for the young hot girls. Of course. It takes everything I have not to bolt with humiliation. The class begins. If there are more women I'm miserable with the downtime. If the guys present happen not to be able to dance, even worse. It can be tortuous following a terrible lead. But then I fight through the resistance. I remember, damn it, this is exercise, and a challenge, and it's just for me. I'm not here to meet anyone. I have love in my life among other great pleasures. This is just a practice that suits me. And isn't practice all about sticking out the ups and downs? I calm the flee response. I try. I determine to continue though it's getting harder and harder.