Body Jam

I've been dancing for days now -- at home with baby allen, at the videoke-han with a date, and yes, at the grand new barely-opened gym in ayala with cousin fritz.

After a very stressful week, i finally gave in to fritz's urgings to check out the gym and attend his fabulous dance classes (he's here in Cebu from Manila for about three weeks to launch the body jam program among other things). Another freebie. Another adventure. Why not?

So there I was finding my way through what used to be Ayala Cinema 6. I was amazed at the transformation-- they really spruced it up. As you tour the place, you see white walls that still smell of fresh paint, winding steel bars, classy wooden floors, a cozy lounge with coffee unlimited, a psychedelic cycling room, a lockers section with muted lights, lots and lots of vitamins for the eyes (hehe) and mirrors, mirrors everywhere whistling to one's vanity.

Not immune to the mirrors, I entered the dance hall. Then jam, I did.

First dance: hip-hop. Groan. Of all dances, why did it have to be hip-hop? I hate it -- song, dance, or artist. I really do. But there I was groovin' and movin' to a track by Justin Timberlake (or was that someone else?)

Jump, twist, lift right leg, kick right, step back, front, close, then sway, sway, shoulder sway...

I was barely catching up, what with my thighs and ass still smarting from the torturous 45-minute cycling session my coz made me attend the day before. But did he give me any relief? Noooo.

Like a dancing general, he barks from the stage, "Move it, move it. Feel the music. C'mon, show it to me, coz!" I glanced up just in time to see him hide a grin. Aba-aba! Pinagtawanan ba naman ako?? Aba, challenge!

I could never perfect the steps but i faked it with attitude. I tried imagining myself jammin' with all those overdressed hip-hop kids in ayala on weekends. Soon enough, I was laughing at myself. Enjoy man pod diay. Well, I have to admit, once you get the hang of it, hip-hop can be a bit cool. Just a little bit, mind you.

Next: the Latin groove. Oooh lala! What a sexy dance! I just love dancing with my butt and following the snake moves. By the time I was doing the figure 8, all stress simply melted away.

Then there was the 80s mix. The jumps, the twirls, the mini cha-cha slides, kicks, and what-else.

One dance followed another and before I knew it, the hour was up. Still, I was high.

Dancing is really something else. Especially when you dance, as they say, like nobody's watching.

At first, it was kinda awkward. There were a lot of people -- guests and members -- milling around and looking in as they checked out the gym. Thoughts were running in my head like-- what if someone I know passes by? What if I'm the worst dancer here? My God, what if I couldn't dance at all? I just knew Fritz would tease me mercilessly after this. Why on earth did I ever listen to him?

But then, there comes a point when all that just cease to matter. For honestly? Nobody really cares. Klutz or not, nobody minds you because everyone is too engrossed in their own world.

And realizing that, I began to feel free.

Feel the music, Fritz says.

When it's cool, you think cool, and you begin to dance cool. When it's sexy, you think sexy, and you begin to dance sexy. When the energy is up, give in to it. Jump, kick, bend. Just move. Never mind the missteps. And when in doubt, just look at the mirror. It will tell you you're at your most beautiful when you dance.

So, hala bira!


P.S. To the dancerous mi amigas, enroll na ta na!