"You walk like you are out to walk your dog on the street. When you are actually supposed to walk with attitude, one that screams, 'Hey look at me!'"
When my lithe little teacher from the Jazz dance classes (I have just joined) raps out those words and accompanies it with a mimicry of our versions of the Jazz walk she has the 30 of us in splits.
Speaking of which, I mean a split, have you ever done one? Not gorged on a banana split, split on someone or been in splits of laughter. Not those ones ok? A split in a dance!
It is incredibly entrancing watching someone do a full 180 degrees on the floor. But when you are kind of slowly instructed to stretch your legs asunder and sit astride the floor aspiring to a similar few hundred degrees, 'entrancing' quite tranforms into 'nerve racking'.
Pretty teacher made us do one today. She made us hold the position for a few seconds -- that seemed to last eternity. Right then the one thought running through my head was 'I am going to be split wide apart right now, god help!'
My hindsight says that at that precise moment had I chanced to see myself in the mirrors there, I would have been found in a dead faint in exactly that position. Which would have been kind of awkward. I am therefore trying to thank god for small mercies.
Go through a split will you? You can then visualise the traumatised lot that walked out of that huge dance studio tonight.
One of them, by the way, has since applauded herself a few times.