Two Sides of the Bargain

These were two sides to the bargain between my husband and me. I will start with my side, which is ballroom dancing. Nowadays I sometimes hear: “No wander you guys dance - all Russians are great dancers!”

Cotillion

Illustration from ballroom manual, XIX c

But in fact, we were introduced to the concept of ballroom dancing as social activity in the United States on one of our first company’s parties. I just noticed several couples doing basic swing steps and underarm turns.

“Look, how nice!” - I said to my husband. “People here know some moves and they look classy. And we shake our butts like teenagers. Only we are not teenagers anymore. We need to learn!”

My husband did not argue with me. What if doing fancy steps is customary in America? He too wanted to look classy. But then you have to do something about it. You should actually find a ballroom studio and even go there. Do you know many married men who would do that?

In our case cultural incentives were definitely not enough. Every time I suggested booking a class, he said, he would rather play soccer, or go to a gym. Naturally, he gravitated to “more manly” sports but my concern was that after a long period of sedentary life-style it could only lead to injuries. And spare time was also a problem: we were both working long hours.

To make the next step toward my long-time dream about Viennese and Cha-cha I proposed a deal. “OK, - I said - I will go with you to a health club, but in return, you will join me for ballroom lessons”. He agreed, because with our limited English at that time every new social experience needed mutual encouragement and support. And, I think, we like to do things together.

My sports-related resume is the following: during my teens and in college I was passionate about artistic gymnastics. But later I did almost nothing – just some very moderate morning exercise.

As I noticed after our first months in America, my little toe calluses I clearly remembered since the 5th grade, were gone. I admired the cosmetic effect but suspected it was the tip of the iceberg.

What could I do to provide a sensible impact on my de-trained body, and without breaking something right away? I decided swimming was the best option. Technically I could stay afloat for half a minute and always envied people capable of swimming tirelessly. It seemed like a good idea to improve my aquatic skills.

That’s exactly how the lane looks when you try to make it for the first time - endless

The first ambitious goal I had set for myself was to reach the end of the standard pool lane. At the finish I was totally out of breath, with my heart pounding. I must’ve been looking pretty bad, because the lady in the lane next to mine asked me if I was OK and then warned me against exhausting myself or else I would have a heart attack. In six months I was able to do up to 4 laps. Later I extended my swimming endurance to 10 laps, then – to 20.


Speaking of the iceberg which tip was my callus-less toe: it was amazing how weakened my muscles were by decades of inactivity and how reluctantly and slowly they agreed to work. But I learned my lesson. If you do not use your body, it degrades. And it does not matter how gifted physically you were as a child or how many sport trophies you’d von in college.

The painful truth is: we must put our bodies to work regularly, otherwise, whatever you gained today you will lose tomorrow.

Another benefit of swimming was the control of the hand on my floor scale. For the first time in three years of going steadily up, it stopped and ever-so-slowly started moving in the opposite direction.

Meanwhile my husband tried various training machines, and enjoyed sauna and Jacuzzi. Sometimes he would join me in the pool but lap swimming was too boring for his entrepreneurial nature; he was determined to make perpetual improvements: bring goggles, flippers, ear plugs.

To pursue our dancing ambitions we went to the local community center. They offered the best deal in the area: four dances in four weeks, five dollars per lesson.

We put on our most comfortable shoes and joined the group of other genuine beginners.

The first dance we learned was, probably, waltz. It appeared to be a different dance we called “waltz” in Russia, which is actually a Viennese. The slow one in my old country had a very elegant name of waltz-Boston. Anyway, it was harder to learn than I expected and moving with music presented additional challenge. 

These East Coast swingers dance much-much better then we did in the beginning

And here is my confession: at the end of each class I was shamefully exhausted. “What is wrong with me?” I asked my husband. “How can an hour of moderate activity tire me so much?” It was hard to admit that simply a prolonged erect position was already a challenge for my non-walking feet and years-chained-to-computer body.

Watching ballroom dancing on TV I was always fascinated by the ability of a lady to follow her partner. “How does she know what his next step would be?” At first it looked like the only way to move together was by learning the routine and following it without any variations.

In order to master the steps we had to practice at home. Our instructor, an old gentleman with perfect posture, called them “basic”, but to us they did not look easy. My husband’s enthusiasm plummeted under pressure of three tasks: moving a certain way, leading a partner and adjusting to the demands of music. My attempts to help him by corrective suggestions annoyed him immensely. He yelled at me.

At our first ballroom party I was under the impression that all the couples around us were professionals. Ladies were spinning, their partners moved with complete confidence. For quite a while I was convinced that we were the most helpless dancers in the room. Then one day I noticed several other beginners as stiff and nervous as us or… even more so. We probably were not the worst anymore!

It felt like a real achievement.

Eventually the time had come when we started enjoying ourselves dancing. Indeed it is one of the most natural pleasures, ancient as humanity itself. Music has amazing ability to uplift and inspire even when you are dead tired or absolutely not in the mood.

Some sources say dancing can cure depression at least temporarily.

Another personal observation I’d like to share: while dancing, you do not eat. An evening spent at a dancing party is also spent away from the fridge, couch, or TV pizza commercials.

There are individuals with strong will (well, they must be!) who would never eat unless they are hungry. I am not one of them. For me the comforting aspect of food is imperative and when I am stressed out, tired or simply bored I eat to console myself. To have a good alternative is very helpful for me in maintaining reasonable eating habits.

But my favorite thing about dancing is that moving to music does not actually feel like effort. Naturally, I burn more energy dancing than I ever planned and without being bored (the reason, why so many health-oriented resolutions fade after a one-time endeavor). My husband noticed that he regularly shed up to three pounds to the end of a dancing party.

We also met many nice people there.

Pretty typical ballroom dancing party

(well, may be a little bit too fancy)

Mingling is usually more active than on parties of other type. Topics of discussion are not limited. Ballroom party crowd is also remarkably diverse: there are people of different age, countries of origin, professional and ethnical background. People show pictures of their recent vacation, discuss movies or look for job opportunities. And for a single person the search for potential mate might be less conspicuous under the protection of another reason for being there – that is, to dance.

And finally, the advantage ladies can especially appreciate. Dancing gave me the reason to wear a girly dress. At first, what to wear was a challenge for me. The only real dress I had in my closet was the one I bought for that company’s Christmas party years before. Now it looked totally inadequate to any other occasion. Eventually I joined the club of always-wearing-pants women.

But for dancing you actually put on a chiffon skirt; the one that floats when you turn making your body look light and gracious. And it does not matter whether you are 22 or 65, such a skirt becomes anyone.

And yes, sequence is appropriate; it glitters so charmingly in dim light…

It looks like a perfect picture of the perfect life, but I started the health blog for a reason.

Next posting will be about the issue that caught me by surprise.
I thought, it was long forgotten.