to barre or not to barre

I tried my first-ever barre class last night at YogaWorks last night. In fact, it was the first barre class that my YogaWorks location had ever offered. I’d heard lots about the barre method but I always turned to old faithful: yoga, or running. But I saw the new class on the schedule and decided, fuck it.

Since YogaWorks doesn’t have a bar yet it was a barre class without the bar, which worked surprisingly well. Which is to say that it hurt immensely.

It reminded me of a mix of 80’s aerobics, a little bit of dance, and a little bit of yoga. There was no namaste or shavasana, which was weird but expected.

I did my best and I’m surprised I’m not more sore today. I might try to get to one class a week, just to switch things up. I’m absolutely sure my arms would look fantastic if I went twice a week but let’s not get crazy.

I think it’d be just as effective to buy the props and a DVD. Which is something I’m considering. But I’m totally glad I tried something new, something I wasn’t sure I could do.


A couple of weeks ago I was invited to see Nutcracker Rouge again. The fantastic Company XIV was bringing their fantastic burlesque version of the classic back to their own space this year. I am happy to say that this is now one of my holiday traditions. 

I brought my friend who is a fan of burlesque and we both sat back and watched as a very saucy spin was put on a very well known children’s tale. The cast was back in full force: perfect choreography, lovely singing.

Extra thanks to the table of gentlemen sitting next to us who gave us their extra bottle of champagne at intermission (I think they assumed we were on a date, but we were not). The only thing that could make Nutcracker Rouge more fun is a bottle of bubbly.

Take everyone you know this year or next year to see this. It’s so. much. fun.  

The Ego & the Dance Class

I took dance classes through out most of grade school. Tap, ballet, and jazz. I liked ballet the most, but I was never that graceful (and I’m still not). And that’s fine. I can dance freestyle in a bar, so I thought I’d have l least some skills in a traditional dance class… because I was never that awful in grade school in my jazz classes. 

Last Monday, the company I work for paid for a theatre dance class for anyone who was interested in taking it. I thought it seemed fun and I signed up. I was discouraged when I’d forgotten my old ballet shoes, but I forged ahead in socks (I would’ve danced barefoot, but the floors seemed a bit splintery).

The warm up was just fine, but as soon as we started learning a quick two-minute routine to The Wiz’s “Ease on Down the Road” and everything went to shit.

Like, total, absolute shit. I had no idea that I was so uncoordinated. Yes, we were being taught the steps in a much quicker fashion than if this was a year-long class preparing for an end-of-the-year recital, but still: goddamn.

I almost walked out in the middle. I almost said screw it and went to my usual yoga class. But I didn’t. I stayed and embarrassed myself. Though I don’t know that anyone was watching because I know that I sure as hell was watching the best person in the group when we were split into two group, not the worst. 

I realized that I take myself way too seriously. I couldn’t just enjoy the (free) class and laugh at myself in this instance. This isn’t the worst thing in the world because I often make jokes at my own expense, but I just felt like a jackass because I had higher expectations, I suppose.

If I really wanted to, I could blame it on not wearing the proper shoes. That very well could’ve been it. Or it’s just the fact that I can’t dance anymore! Ten years out of the saddle might do that to someone.

That said: I’m not taking another dance class, ever. I’ll stick to yoga, thankyouverymuch.