Lesson 27

Last night I had to face up to a sad fact. My hips weren't made for samba, and at 29, I'm not sure I will be able to remodel them either!

Tamara took the class again this week, so it was latin all the way.

We started with the aforementioned samba. My feet don't have a problem. As I mentioned the other week, it's all step ball-changes to me. But the hips. Oh the hips. I stared at Tamara's hips for the best part of the class. She explained that all the action comes from the pelvis. And in my head, I understand that. Somewhere between my brain hearing what she says and the action coming out, something misfires, and what's left is an uncontrollable mess. My recent suppositions that perhaps I was more suited to latin than ballroom after all were blown out of the water in the space of 60 minutes.

After the misery of the samba reality, I was hoping the rumba might offer some comfort. Surely I'm a Kelly and not a Letitia? I liked to think so... We concentrated on technique and timing. I thought I'd been doing alright at rumba lately, but turns out I was wrong about that too. Oh well...