Oh, Sure It Looks Easy

So I gather the necessities: workout clothes that I can move in, stilletos, and courage. Imagining self as a character in Oz 'the clothes, the heels, the nerve.' About half a dozen women, culturally diverse, but all in or not too far from my age range are in the studio ready to begin. We begin the warm-up seated in our chairs, facing the mirrored wall, first with slow head and shoulder rolls, graceful arm movements, the inevitable opening and closing of legs and, of course, raising each leg as we caress it from thigh to ankle with our hands and then support it with palm under the heel. The music is 'Between The Sheets' by The Isley Brothers. Nice, lush, Isley grooves. I'm feeling exotic already.

Oh, what? Now the chairs go away as we remain facing the mirrors and learn moves from belly dance and those sensuous Latin dances. This is fun. I can truly dig this. Yeah, what's next? The instructor is a tall, elegant, gorgeous woman who radiates the most positive exciting energy. If I can get these moves and take a fraction of her energy field with me, I can rule, baby!

Now - the routine. In heels, getting the steps, I'm allright, yeah, I'm hot, don't know what this song is but I like the strong bottom (that's musician talk for the bass line.) Something about a girl in the club, boots with the fur, the whole club is lookin' at her. I'm that girl! They're looking at me. Yeah! Wait, what? Sunny got what? Low, low, low, low, ... who me? Oh, no. I'm at that age. That age. You know, when we least expect it we can sneeze, cough, laugh too hard, hit a fixed object while riding a bicycle, stuff like that - and that unfortunate bit of leakage occurs. Damn perimenopause. No way I'm going to be embarrased in hoochie class. I gotta sit this move out.

But I'm caught up, trapped even, the class filled with latecomers, I'm being pushed back and forth, side to side, bass is thumpin', teacher's calling out directions, left on one, to the back, keep going, now turn around and give that big booty a smack, now down! And I go down. Hey. What's this? I got back up. I went down and right back up! I can't remember the last time I squatted and got right back up. And no leak! Plus, it really is easier in the high heels. I can do this. I can low-low - in hoochie class - and stay dry. This must surely be my destiny. Okay, in the mirror, I might look like I've just finished a two mile hike, but that's the sign of a good rehearsal, right? It must be.

Now it's time to lie on our mats and cool down with a bit of Pilates and yoga. Now I'm dying. Well, not really dying, but we're working on our core. Good abs are essential for exotic dance. And this is more of a workout than I expected. Now the lights are low, the music is mellow, we're meditating and in a happy place. This is an excellent workout, and if I can get off the mat and drive home, I know I'll return.

Before I do that, my next plan of action is to visit a professional dancer gal pal who performs in a burlesque troupe. Come back and I'll show and tell you all about it.