I gave up dance at the age of seven for good reason. I mean really who wants to go around in a pink leotard with rabbit ears on their head. I don't care now if you're only seven and I didn't care then. Of course then my reason for quitting dance had nothing to do with the slightly off the wall costume and more to do with my belief that I was a tap dancer not a baton twirler. I quit right after I learned that twirling with my left hand, well it, like the bunny suit, just wasn't happening. So that was it for me and dance lessons until just a few days ago.
After emerging from over a month of revisions on two stories I was invited by a friend to participate in a Zumba class. Exercise sounded like a good thing so I washed up my walking runners, making them fit for indoor use and headed off. Note to self: dry runners thoroughly before putting them on feet. So with slightly damp runners, an off-the-shelf bottle of water rather than a thermo-lined container of water, and dress that screamed I was not a regular - ancient yoga pants and a souvenir t-shirt from the Great Wall of China, I lined up with the others curious to see what this was all about.