Dance Class

Tonight, Helena and I had class #2 of our ballroom dancing course.  In a way, I enjoy it because it is about the most exercise I get in the course of a week, and the only chance I get to go dancing.  On the down side, it isn’t really dancing at all.  It’s trying to move your feet in the correct way while an instructor barks out orders like a drill sergeant.  Actually, I think everybody else thinks she’s just fine, she even had everybody laughing for a while there, but that’s what the Czech language sounds like to me.  Flat, monotone, humorless.  Basically, I just watch her feet and then try to do the same as everybody else.
Which worked fairly  well  until we got up to the Waltz.  Something about it just confused me and I was stumbling all around the room.  Maybe it’s because it came at the end and I was already tired and unfocused.  I suspect I am the oldest person in  the class.  Not sure, there’s one gray haired guy who could conceivably be older than me and it’s also a tossup between him and me who’s the fattest.

I’m pretty sure I was the sweatiest, though.

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