Salsa dancing and all that jazz....

Today, every Friday, is my salsa dance class. I'm now at the intermediate level, which means I can turn and spin without slapping anyone or tripping over myself.

Speaking of tripping, my shoes are abominable for the dance floor. The heels are too thin and the straps, too tight. I'm literally killing my feet slowly (imagine not being able to dance anymore!). But help is on the way. A Chinese uncle came to take measurements of my feet and those of my classmates, who were interested. Between the smattering of Mandarin I know and his halting English, I figured he said my feet are really broad (size 9 on a good, cold day and 10 on a bad, hot day).

Speaking of broad feet, I'd tried unsuccessfully to purchase a pair of dancing shoes from department stores. Which is why I had been wearing my Nine West shoes, which are, really, only appropriate for getting out of the house to the car and getting out of the car to the office. And I don't own a car (too costly in Singapore, a Toyota second-hand costs about $50,000 with certificate, taxes and what not).

Speaking of costs, I think I need to invest in a really good support bra (are there dancing bras?). I didn't like catching the sight of my bosoms bouncing in the ceiling-to-floor studio mirror. It made me self-conscious and I forgot my steps. I don't think the few men (there are always fewer men in dance classes in Singapore), minded though, and I swear I caught quite a few of them staring at my chest when they were supposed to be making eye contact.

Speaking of eye contact, I, unfortunately, haven't got the eyes for any of the men there. One is an ah pek (an old uncle, who swept his few remaining strands to cover his pate). Another is a Caucasian expat, whose wife is fiercely possessive. Another is a stiff schoolboy in uniform. The other is my instructor from my beginner's class, who chips in, nice chap, smallish and I suspect his girlfriend is one of the school's dancers. So much for expanding my social circle.

Speaking of social needs, dancing feeds my soul in a way. It's my only musical/artistic talent and I desperately cling on to it. I have to go and watch Take The Lead, starring Antonio Banderas as a salsa dancer. Last week, I watched Dirty Dancing 2 (I much prefer the first one with Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey). I've seen others like Save The Last Dance with Julia Stiles and the other one with Richard Gere and Jennifer Lopez, but none of them moved me. I quite enjoy the British Billy Elliott but my most favourite dance movie has got to be the Australian Strictly Ballroom. It's about this unattractive Spanish girl, who hooks up with a relatively hot Aussie guy and heat things up on the dance floor, and in the bedroom.

Speaking of making love, dancing is such a personal and intimate thing that it's not surprising many dance partners salsa all the way into each other's arms. Hmm, I would really love it if my future husband can dance...

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've an appointment to wiggle in front of my dressing mirror.