If there is a list of things that I am not, right at the top of that list is Good Dancer. Brandon Walsh and I sometimes talk about this in group therapy. I am an abysmal dancer. Growing up, I did not take a single dance class. (Instead, I opted to be the most non-graceful figure skater in America, and to show up for ice time wearing Simpson's boxer shorts and plaid tights, and also to wear thin the patience of my instructor, whom I called my "coach" because I was and am pretentious, by having 1000 jokes and not a lot of attention left over for my axle. This is, essentially, the story of my whole entire life.)
Exactly one half of the entire Tracy Anderson workouts are Dance Cardio. What Dance Cardio is, essentially, is bouncing around your living room like a spaz for 30 minutes. You have the option to do it twice! If you want! (So far, I do not want.) I am SO BAD at it. So bad. I see what she is doing. Since I have no mirrors in my living room, I, thankfully, do not see my version of it. Even calling what I am doing a version of it is an insult to "it." Mostly, I am jumping, with some bouncing thrown in just to mix it up. It is terrible. By the end I am both sweaty and filled with self-loathing and worried that someone was peeking in the cracks in my curtains and now Knows. For my upcoming anniversary, I am considering letting my husband watch me "perform" this and make as many jokes as he would like without hurting my feeling.
I just looked it up, though, and the traditional 12 year gift is silk/ linen, not humiliation, unfortunately. Back to the drawing board.
Tracy keeps saying that I will get better at it. Well, sure, relatively. But will I ever not feel like a complete moron? I have a whole basket of doubts.