Me, dancing

I discovered dancing.

Okay, so I always claim I don't dance. I also do not sing, which is another matter altogether. Point is, the last time I danced was in highschool, and it didn't go well. I waltz, though. And do cha-cha. Those were easy. I got good rhythm. Daw.

Dancing again. Not any dance in particular. I used to dance those folksy things in gradeschool, and it's the competitive stuff that earned my school some top awards in the region. That was too long ago, lost interest when I started gaining height disproportionately with my width. I got too lanky and moved clumsily.

Anyway, I've seen some dance classes at the gym and all I can do is watch how nicely the participants moved with the music. Still couldn't get myself to join in, too reserved to be part of an out and loud group. Yoga works for me because you're supposed to look in, not out.

Channing Tatum danced well. Been waiting for Step Up to be shown, maybe this week or next? Still not enough for me to start dancing, only to heighten my awareness that dance is something I used to do. And then there's Vogue - used as a major soundtrack for The Devil Wears Prada. Over the weekend some botched night out with old friends turned me to iTunes to download Madonna.

Hi and lo. This week I just started dancing. On my own. Under Madonna's Vogue, Bonnie Bailey's Ever After and a few QAF music such as Deborah Cox's Absolutely Not and Full Frontal's You Think You're A Man. For two nights, after yoga and working out, I go home, take my top off, and dance like there's no tomorrow to these works of art. Picture the go-go boys at Bed or Gov and you'll have a pretty good idea of what I'm talking about.

I never danced like this before. I mean, just me, the rhythm and music blaring in the background. Must have been pissing some of my neighbors off, though I'm pretty sure they won't complain as my music is way more pleasing than the sounds coming from their HBO-ladden sound systems.

Pissed off neighbors aside (cute, but pissed nonetheless) there are some benefits to dancing as well, though I didn't pay much attention before. For one, improved movement and coordination. Two, my calorie burn rate must be shooting off the roof, and I swear by my sweat-soaked body this one's a great alternative to my usual 15-minute 15-kph treadmill program that gets me loathing looks from guys (and gals) twice my waist-size. My friend Manuel, an excellent dancer, also tells me it helped trim his waist a few inches, adding back dancing as part of his workout routine. I'd say he's right, plus stronger limbs and tighter ass, perhaps.

Of course, there's a long long way between dancing topless in the privacy of my pad to dancing in class at the gym, tank top aside. It's going to be a long and winding road and you may never see me dance at all.

Me and the rhythm, me and the music. I'd be perfect for an iPod commercial.