I used to go dancing all the time. I loved it and thought I was pretty darn good. I also used to take aerobics classes. To me, aerobics was just glorified dancing and vice versa. My hubby used to get on to me when we'd go dancing because we'd be out there cutting a rug and he'd notice I was using all my aerobics moves. Step ball change with a little hip shimmy thrown in. I didn't even realize that I was doing it!
My dancing consists of spastic movements. I try to look sexy and cool, but I'm probably grimacing and it's probably obvious that I'm trying really hard not to fall down. I have fallen down while dancing before. My feet get so happy I can't keep up with them.
I used to hang out at a local dive bar where the music was always great. The place was pretty grungy and the flooring left a lot to be desired. There wasn't any flooring per se, it only had the concrete foundation. Where the dance floor was located, there must have been some excavating done at some time because the concrete was missing some fairly substantial chunks which made dancing a bit challenging. High heels made the whole exercise perilous because one misstep would result in an ankle twist or fall. The fact that I am a total clod only made matters worse. I don't really need an excuse for falling... it's just something my natural abilities enable me to do.
I don't get to dance much any more. #1, my Mr. Wonderful doesn't dance, #2, I haven't recovered from some back surgery I had, so the pain overrules the bliss and #3, every time I DO try to dance, paramedics always seem to show up at my side and try to strap me to a gurney! Not sure what' up with that.
I won't quit dancing. You can't make me. I'm just going to keep on "ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive" (oops, I just fell down).