I Lava Lindy Hop!

I am hardly a dancer, but it's not for lack of trying.  In kindergarten I took tap and jazz.  In the unfortunate recital videos you can practically see the thought bubble above my head with "heel-toe, heel-toe" in it,  my face twisted into a grimace of grave concentration.  We danced to the Locomotion and I'm pretty sure that I was the only leotard-clad kid who couldn't even properly get in the conga-line.

First grade came and my mom took pity on my lack of rhythm and put me in ballet.  Yeah, because that was gonna work out.  Luckily, just before my first ballet recital I broke my arm. Instead of watching me clumsily tripping over myself and moving left when I should have gone right, all anyone saw was the little blonde girl with a cast who was stuck moving like a yo-ho-ho pirate while her fellow dancers lithely moved from one graceful plie to another.  (Actually, "plie" is the only real ballet word  remember.  I'm sure it wasn't all plies.  That would look more like a bootcamp fitness class than tiny tots twirling to "Drip Drip Drop Little April Showers.")

Eventually I was determined to be a lost cause and dance classes were deemed a gigantic money pit.  Luck would have it that my third grade teacher taught the class Triple Time Swing all year in the half hour before lunch, ending in a big 'ol dance production at the end of year school assembly.  And by production, I mean thirty-four nine year olds dancing to a shortened version of "Be True to Your School" without Mrs. Richina having a meltdown.  I remember thinking I was pretty much the best ever at that dance, but it also probably was because I had a major crush on the boy who was my dance partner so I was on a cloud the whole time.  We danced so furiously during the assembly that my tissue paper poodle skirt was ripped! Fate would have it that I would be in an on-again-off-again relationship all through 4th grade with that boy, until finally he was convinced by his marble-shooting friend to dump me, and he called me a "Demented Dog" and broke my poor little one-two-three-rock-step heart.

In high school I was in the school production of Big River as a tart (typecasting...) and when my mom and I went to buy some proper character shoes, we got home to discover that in the box there were two left feet. 

Taking that as a sign that I should just give up, I never really formally danced after that.  My only recent brush with dance was a two-part burlesque class that honestly I have no clue how I did in because I was staring at the girl who was a for-realsies dancer in front of me and pretending that her mirror reflection was actually my own.

But see, I love dance.  I dance all the time, even though I have absolutely no faith in my footwork.  In my living room I perform for my gracious dog and I'm suddenly Ginger-freakin'-Rogers- as you can clearly tell by the video I've provided for you as a visual aid.  

I've always wanted to be one of those people who make other people irate because she's taking up the whole dance floor with her crazy-good moves, but with my history of dance failure I never pursued anything.  

And then I met Lauren.  And in addition to being absolutely adorable and kinda Scarlet Johansson-y, she also does lindy hop.  And when I got really excited upon learning that, she said that there would be a Groupon coming soon and I'd better hop on that.

So I did.  It was a little intimidating going to my first class with Fresno Swing Dance because OMIGOSH, they can dance, but my partner and I bravely walked through the doors and realized that everything was going to be juuuust fine.  Everyone was incredibly nice, there were ringers thrown in with the beginners to help keep things moving and because Lindy Hop is a social dance you switch dance partners the whole time and get to make lots of new friends fast.  

And by the end of my first lesson not only was I able to do it without killing anyone, losing a limb, breaking a mirror or crying but I was also completely hooked.  Like, negotiating with the addict in my head to see if I could maybe give up some of my weekly Starbucks budget to keep my feet moving with classes.  Which, if you know me and my habit of always having a Triple Soy Latte in hand, is kind of a big deal.  

I love that as a follower in swing it's all about intuition and reading your partner, which means I can almost figure out the steps better if I close my eyes and go entirely from my leader's cues.  I love that eventually when I stop tripping over myself I'm gonna look like a badass at weddings, provided I bring a plus-one who can Lindy Hop too.  I LAVA that this is something I had always doubted that I'd ever be able to do and now I can't even imagine not seeing it through and testing myself to see just how slightly-better-than-mediocre I can get.  I might even eventually almost be... good!  And those are the kind of breakthroughs that are rocking my gosh-danged world right now.  If I- the girl with two left Capezios, can dance, what else can I accomplish?