HIP HOP WITH LENNY

Dear God.

I don't want to ever leave the house again. I'm too embarrassed. I want to hide away forever and never show my face in public again. What was I thinking?. What could I have possibly gained by this.... and now, my reputation is in ruins. I was someone people looked up to, but now... I'm the laughing stock.

I thought it would be such a great idea.

I had finished work, and read the day sheet that tells me what was on the next day. I saw something that brought a smile to my face. This, I thought, would be my chance to show my peers that I excelled in something. This was my chance to blow everyone away with my talent. This was my chance to shine.

For years, I have been surrounded by champion Ballroom dancers. Everyday, I join them in a warm-up, but my body has never been able to shimmy, or distort or batucada like they do. Next to them, I dance like I have a bung leg, hip replacement, broken ribs and a small case of scholyosis. They parade around the dance floor like regal equestrian horses, while I clammer around them, trying to impersonate the moves that their liquid bodies are making, but come off looking more like a demented fool. But they were all begging to open their horizons, experience new styles, tackle new steps... they had pleaded with management to bring in some local teachers and hold dance classes. The week before, they 'salsa-ed' for a few hours.... but management promised that this week, would be something that these dancers had never been expected to try before.

And there it was.... written in bold on my day sheet.

'Hip-Hop' with Lenny.

I use to be somewhat of a dancer... never Hip-Hop, but hey... this is so far away from their artform, that this was going to be a piece of piss to soar above them. And how hard could it be. The teacher - Lenny - was not gonna go too full on, as he was going to be teaching people who were so far out of their element.

I had a plan. I would take the easy choreography, and embellish it with fancy arms and head pops. I would grunt like a bucking bull, and whip my body so that everyone around me would be dazzled by my creativity.

I ran to work today. I arrived and saw everyone limbering up. Some had tried to funk themselves up with baggy pants, and cut off shirts.... i mean please.... this was not an audition for a 'K-Ci & Jo Jo' film clip. I opted for something else to show off my natural groove... Sweat band, puma sneakers, addidas track suit pants.... i was so old school.

Lenny arrived, and we all cheered his presence. I stood there, eyeing out my fellow workmates who had no idea what my intentions were. Usually I would hide up the back, in fear of anyone commenting on my lack of Latin American dance skills. But I strode up to the front, as if I was Lenny's shadow.

We started with a simple warm-up stretch... the phat beats were blasting from his boombox. Every stretch I made, I forced oxygen deep into my muscles, so that I could demonstrate how in my league I was. There I was, pushing myself to a new limit, keeping one eye on Lenny, hoping that he would look up and see me on his level. I was beaming with pride.

After the soulful music allowed us to warm-up every bit of our bodies, it was time for the choreography. I was ready to pump and krump my way through it. I looked at few of my cast mates, trying to look 'cool' in front of our tutor. Who did they think they were?.

I laughed in their faces.

Look out guys... you are about to witness a spectacle. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. Sure... I was being a cocky asshole, but I had every right to be didn't I?!!

"Today, we are going to attempt to be a Pussycat Doll', said Lenny

A Pussycat Doll?

This was Hip-Hop wasn't it. I was all geared up to break it down, spin on my head, isolate like a robot.

5, 6, 7, 8.

Mince one, Pop two, spin three, squat four......

Whip five, Dip six, Jump seven, slap eight.....

O.K.... so maybe I should've dusted off the dance shoes a little earlier, as the steps found it hard to settle in my brain. But surely I was kicking ass on the rest of the cast. I spanned the room, and some, sure were struggling like myself, but some were giving it like Britney Spears pre-drugs.

Was I not the best in the room? How could this be?.

Before i knew it, we had learnt about a minutes worth of choreography in about 10 minutes. I was panting like an overweight dog, sweat was dripping out of every pore, and I still couldn't remember how the bloody thing started.

Lenny walked over to the stereo, and said 'Right... let's do it to music'.

The music kicked in, and I started to think over the choreography in my head.

Hang on a minute.... Its bloody twice the bloody speed. The beats from the boombox, equaled my heart rate. Fast.

5, 6, 7, 8

Mince one, Pop two, spin three, squat four......

Whip five, Dip six, Jump seven, slap eight.....

Oh God...... I'm popping, I'm locking, I'm spinning, I'm......

Did my tit just slap me in the face?

Oh god..... I'm physically dying. I'm breathing like an asthmatic with a Tracheotomy!.

I continue ploughing through the choreography. I'm dipping, I'm whipping, I'm squatting... well...... I attempted to squat, but didn't quite make it back up.

There I am, laying on the floor, having pulled my quad, and corked my thigh.

This was hell..... I had such high hopes for myself.... and as I lay there...... cramping..... a sudden wave of shame takes over me. I was not the Mac Daddy I thought I was. Gone were the days that I could head pop like the best of them..... I was..... a has been. I had lost my mojo...... I was now merely a mover..... not a groover. I was never going to be a Pussycat Doll.

Minute after minute crawled by, and I saw the others around me sink their teeth in their new found love for this dance. My composure went from the egotistical ass in the front of the class, to the guy who cracks the lame jokes up the back.

The lesson finished and everyone applauded Lenny who had been such a great taskmaster for us. I was the first to go over and thank him, and he politely said that I did well.

"Thankyou....... but Hip-Hop is alot harder now that I'm a big boy", I chuckled.

"You're not fat.... just alot heavier than everyone else in the room", said Lenny.

Excuse me....... heavy?......HEAVY?....... HEAVY?!!!!!!!

I was meaning that Hip-Hop was alot harder now that I have grown up..... not because I put on some extra kilos.

Now.... not only was I nursing a broken ego by not being able to give it as a dancer..... I'm now a porky pig!.

God........ where did I go wrong?. And why would someone call me heavy!. Sure, i have a slight tire, and a wee double chin..... but I'm not chunky or plump.

Please God.... save me from the scrutiny that I will surely face.

xxxxx K