My Inner Bhangra

Let me preface this post by saying I am the most uncoordinated person you will ever meet. Nowhere is this more true than in your friendly neighbourhood aerobics class. When everyone else is grapevine-ing to the left, I'm heading right. When the skinny bitches are turning in a circle leading with their left hip, I'm heading on a one way trip to the opposite corner of the room with my right hip. What I lack in ability or coordination, I make up for in enthusiasm...or at least I HOPE I do, because that way everyone can say, "Who is that moron in the corner going the
wrong way? Ah well, at least she looks like she is having fun!"

Late last year my friend Jewel (name changed to protect the innocent) got married in a full traditional Indian soiree. Included in the lead up to the big day was a Bollywood dance lesson for her nearest and dearest, which included me.

Hmmm. Let's consider the dangers of this.

Flailing arms.
Gyrating hips.
Random shoulder shrugging at high speed.
Hands flicking in multiple directions.
Boobs shimmying.
Feet tapping.
Legs kicking out wildly.

...and that's me dancing on a good day!

Ummm, yeah. Thanks but...no.

Jewel had other ideas, so it was that I found myself in a hot room with 30 other chicks waving my arms around and in general feeling like a giant Ooompah Loompah. An hour later, pouring with sweat, I had a huge smile on my face. It was exhilarating, it was fun, it was hilariously funny, and it was a damn good workout. Silly me said as much to Jewel, who suggested that post-wedding, we take this dancing biz up as an actual hobby.

*insert maniacal laughter here* You're kidding, right?

Fast forward several months, and I am turning over a new, get-out-of-my-comfort-zone leaf. So I mentioned to Jewel that maybe we should take another look at the whole hippy-hippy-shake business. It took less than 4 hours and she had emailed me a list of Bollywood dancing schools, complete with times, costs, and how we were going to get there (as we live on opposite sides of Melbourne.) Tonight was our first class...and honestly, I can't remember when I've had quite that much fun while getting some serious exercise.

I was pouring with sweat, grinning like an idiot and I found myself bloody grateful that nobody there gave two shits about my coordination of my (lack of) dancing skills. Not to mention, I was grateful that there was no turning or grapevine-ing involved. I also found myself grateful that, in Jewel, I've found a friend who I trust enough to see me shaking my groove thing in what must surely be a highly unflattering manner.

Driving home tonight, I realised something. All those Bollywood stars? They're damn skinny. Not to mention HOT. So if subjecting myself to a bit of Bangra/Indian Rock-n-Roll/Reckless Abandon once a week is the price I have to pay, then I'm happily paying. I don't know that this will become a forever thing, but it's a great addition to my 5-day-a-week gym habit I've developed. PLUS, I get to see Jewel once a week - and she's totally fab, so that's an added bonus.

If I didn't know better, I'd say that I am starting to - shock, horror! - quite like the me that is emerging from the detox shell.