Drop it like it's hot...

After a quite crappy day on Monday (I even bought a pair of shoes but no, still not happy) I head half-heartedly off to my dance class, a little lack-lustre and little red-eyed and pink-faced (or a lot red-faced, more like). I brace the cold, rainy streets of London in my millions of layers, sheep skin-lined boots, thick, woollen coat and make my way to the ever efficient Underground (there will be delays of...2 minutes, oh knows!). I love London transport. A major delay in Sydney could see one being two hours late for work and a talking to by the boss for not foreseeing such problematic transport issues. Is clairvoyance becoming a prerequisite when it comes to employability?

I am not in the mood to deal with other people so I plug my ears with the sounds of Placebo and lament the fact that I won't be seeing them live anymore, as I had made the decision the day before to sell my Soundwave ticket (Any takers? Message me).

I finally arrive at Covent Garden and bee-line it for the elevator, squished in with every other eager patron to escape the blinding (and not to mention, unflattering) fluorescent lights of the tube.

Eventually I find myself out on the streets, which is buzzing with people and black taxis racing by trying not to hit the throng of people carelessly crossing the road. I see my neon dance studio sign and brace myself for what could be another night of unsuccessfully attempting the pirouette or a night of triumph. I silently pray for the latter.

I push my way through the doors and am immediately greeted (for lack of a better word) by the unfriendly staff at the dance studio. After waving my membership card in their face, I’m eventually buzzed in and allowed to proceed to the changeroom. Making ones way to the changeroom is a challenge in itself, as one has to push passed all the people lining up for the next classes, but it also offers the perfect opportunity to check out the talent, dance-wise and other...

After a quick change into my dance attire I head up the steep steps and make my way to studio nine. The teacher is already there setting up the music and I park myself in the middle-back so I can still see the teacher, but no one can see me if I mess up. However, this time I have nothing to worry about, as there is a group of three extremely uncoordinated people to my right and so no one is going to care if I can't do a turn properly (and as it turns out, we do none. Hurrah!)

Instead we begin the ever-strenuous warm up to ‘SOS’ by Jordin Sparks (no, not that Jordan) and begin the ballet sequence of the class, while also loosing up the muscles with some funky moves during the chorus. I have to say my pliés are getting much better, as are my calf and quad muscles. Hello, I thought you had left me. Next the beats of ‘Halfway’ by The Black Eyed Peas pumps out of the sound system and we begin working on strength with leg lifts, second position, fifth position and other ballet positions which I never actually knew until I attended this class. I feel like such a pro and smile smugly to myself over my form, until I look over at the actual pros and realise... mmm not quite. After some splits (Yes, still got it!) we learn we will be dancing to ‘I Can Transform Ya’ by Chris Brown.

Intricate body movements with sharp lines are the theme for tonight and it looks and feels great. We're encouraged to really loosen up and just sit in the groove of the song. Some of my moves are a bit ‘physified’ but eventually I relax and really begin to hit the spots. We get a crowd going outside to watch (or perhaps just the people waiting for the next class) and we're all feeling it; the mirrors are fogging up from the heat and boy, are we hot.

The teacher is even inspired and joins in as we dance and she keeps replaying the track so we keep going. We’re all in unison and look like we could take on any So You Think You Can Dance group performance. Any crappy thought, any sad moment I had previous to this has washed away. I feel confident and sexy; I feel like I can do anything and nothing can hold me back. Yeah, it's probably the endorphins pumping through my body but nothing can take this feeling away at this moment.

Finally the class finishes on a bang with some body rolling, however, when the teacher yells, “double-time” I opt out at this moment as my body just can't move that fast. Instead I watch the pros do it and they do it well.

I was going to stay for the beginner’s ballet class as I have never actually done ballet before and would like to have a go; it can't be that different from physie right? But after seeing the girls walk in with their ballet shoes, pink tops, black leos and tights I think not. I feel a bit out of my league. I thought this was a beginners class?

So I didn't conquer all tonight. I beat my bad mood, but next I’ll have to beat my insecurities and conquer that ballet class.

I’m going to miss these classes when I leave London.