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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

Tango is like swimming (and a little like riding a bike.)

Tonight was my second tango class and, once again, I loved it. I got there, we lined up in front of the mirror and started to practice sliding our feet on the floor. I looked in the mirror–ugh. I’m the biggest woman in the class, I’ve lost all stomach tone (that held my stomach in a little after too much dairy), and I just looked fat. But once we started dancing with partners, I felt weightless.

Just like when I am floating in a pool, when I’m dancing–my body ends exactly where it should, I take up space with grace, I move easily across the floor. I don’t feel fat at all, I feel amazing when I dance tango. We perfected the moves from last week and got a sneak preview on one for next week. Sadly–the class is on Thursdays and next week will be Yom Kippur, so no tango for me.

I also must find a new pair of shoes–tonight I was battling my Aldos. They are fine for 8 hours at a desk, but not for an hour of Tango, I was struggling to keep them on, which made me a little clumsy.

In two weeks I’ll go back for more tango. My teacher even complimented me at the end of class, saying I was doing a good job. DanceSport–here I come.

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