Well so much for speed blogging.

These past few weeks were really overwhelming. I feel only slightly less overwhelmed right now. Plus, today is Thursday, which in my mind, is practically Friday, so I'm moving into weekend mode. And, fingers crossed, my workload will allow a few hours of me-and-G. time this weekend. We need it.

Adding to my busy schedule is my twice-a-week foray into Group Fitness, i.e. Cardio Salsa. The class is structured like a dance class, so we do fun cumbia-salsa-merengue type moves. This past Monday, we learned a new routine (or at least new to me) that was less Latin-dance and more jazz-hands and shake-your-booty. I love it, the moves are fun. It doesn't feel like I'm exercising and, slightly embarrassing confession here, I've always wanted to be a dancer. My family talks about how I was alway jumping and moving about as a kid. Now I love dancing at parties and doing silly moves with Filo in my arms (I doubt she loves that part as much as me), so this is right up my alley. I think I keep up pretty well considering I'm new to the class and never took a real dance class in my life. A group of women are really, really good. And skinny. Good dancers and skinny. Actually, what I try not to focus on is that all the women in the class are pretty thin. G. says I'm exaggerating. Boy, I wish I were. Even discounting the two gross-skinny older women (bone-thin, bump-into-them-and-watch-them-crack thin), everyone else is smaller than me. Another thing I try to not focus on are how those wall-to-wall mirrors make me look in my work-out gear. Looking back at me is an image that doesn't meet my mental picture of Me. I don't expect to look like a beauty queen while sweating. At the same time, I don't like the way certain areas seem...pinch-able (perhaps this makes no sense, bear with me)

What all of this amounts to is that I'm trying hard not to let all the skinnies, muscular, athletic types who roam the Gym and my class intimidate me or make me feel bad about myself. So far, so good. I follow along the best I can and proceed to thrust my hips side-to-side and sashay corner-to-corner with attitude.

And by attitude, I'm referring to the John Tavolta up there OF COURSE. Actually, I'm more Finola Hughes than John Travolta. You get the picture.

Also, I've seen Saturday Night Fever and Staying Alive more times than I'm willing to admit.