So you think you can dance

Tonight I did something for which I am very proud of myself. I went to a step class. Big deal, right? Well it is for me. This is the first exercise class I have ever taken. I never wanted to even try them before because they scared me. It's all organized and it looks like dancing and the condensation that used to build up on the windows which was from people's sweat freaked me out.

My sister and friends were always like, "Oh I LOVE the classes! They're sooo fun!" And I always called bullshit and refused to try it claiming that "it wasn't my scene" and "I preferred to do my own thing" (eat McDonald's on my couch). Well, that is not entirely true. There is a real reason why I would never even try it.

When I was a senior in high school, I tried out for the high school musical. There was a singing audition, an acting audition and ...a dance audition. I nailed the singing audition. They told me I had the perfect voice for one of the leads. Next came the acting. I admit I have no acting talent whatsoever, but no one does in high school, and I did a passable job and they said I did fine.

Then came the dance audition.

They brought in this lady to choreograph the play and for the audition, she was going to show us one part of the play where the leads and the chorus were doing some light dance moves. So everyone got into a line, she taught us the steps one by one and then we put it all together. You guys, I can shake my booty in anyone's face, obviously, but I cannot do organized dances. It was a complete and utter disaster. I was so bad that she kept yelling out my name to tell me what to do next because I would be 10 steps late and going the wrong direction. Then in the middle of the song, she stopped the music and said, "Okay, um...Sarah? Why don't you take a seat and just watch the others do this." Holy shit. She booted me halfway through the audition. And in front of all my friends. It was horrible, and because of it I ended up not being in the play but rather playing in the pit orchestra (playing my clarinet).

It's 12 years later, and I am still not over the trauma of that moment.

So what does that have to do with an aerobics class? Um, have you ever watched those classes? It's like organized choreography. It's the same exact effing thing as trying out for that godforsaken musical and even thinking about doing a class made me want to run home, put on a flannel, listen to Gin Blossoms and cry to my Jonathan Brandis poster.

But my goal lately is to make some life changes-be responsible for my own happiness and all that jazz (we'll come back to this at a later date)-and one of those changes is working out. I joined the rec near my house, and Diane encouraged me to try a class and said she would do it with me. I finally decided to show my high school self that I wasn't completely useless when it came to organized kind-of-choreographed moves. And what I found out is that I'm still completely useless.

Just kidding. I actually did okay. I can't do all the hand moves yet, and when I try I look like a retarded monkey. So I stuck to the footwork to start. I'd give myself, as a newbie, a B-/C+. But anything that slightly resembled a dance move was, of course, a disaster. Also there were things she called cheerleader moves that I was horrible at. There is a reason I was not a cheerleader. Actually there are about a hundred reasons why I wasn't a cheerleader not the least of which is that I thought I would get way more guys if I was in the pep band instead. Guys at sporting events are all about the band chicks.

The great thing about this particular class was that there were only like 8 people in it-all women, all my mom's age. It was glorious. They were so nice and supportive, as moms often are. They told me I did a good job for having never been to any class before and then they told us, "You guys HAVE to come back!" God I love moms.

All in all, I'd say that I think I did a pretty good job of facing my fear of organized movement routines. Plus the workout was really good, and I didn't even notice I was working out because I was concentrating so hard on getting the moves down the whole time so that she wouldn't make me sit down and watch.

However, I can already tell that in about 6 hours, I will be completely unable to move. I am going to need one of you to come over in the morning with a wheelbarrow and roll me to work. I can offer you payment in the form of pizza flavored Goldfish crackers. Any takers?