It's Worse Than I Realised - Apparently

Clinging onto Salsabum’s bingo wings as she span me round with the patience and force of a Category 4 Hurricane, I felt I may have slightly underestimated the time required for my convalescence. Every time I attempted to collapse, my arm was wrenched up from it’s socket and I was pulled upright again by my now borderline abusive partner.

As Salsabum has employed the help of a personal trainer to get her into shape, I fear this situation can only deteriorate as her energy, fitness and body strength increase at the same rate as mine don’t. She did kindly offer to share her session with me as I stretched out my five rolls of stomach. If only she’d stopped there. “You should come along. We’ll do the same workout as you’ve got the same problem areas as me – hips, inner thighs, outer thighs, upper arms, back fat, bottom and stomach”. Well ain’t that peachy? There was me just focusing on my stomach when, clearly, I should have been concentrating on everything. Thanks Salsabum for pointing out my shortsightedness.

Resisting the urge to stamp the collective weight of my ‘problem areas' onto her jazz shoes, I opted for some chesty coughing instead. I could tell my fellow boppers appreciated the raspy tones of my fully matured cough which drowned out the teacher’s instructions and most of the music. Their initial sympathetic looks swiftly turning to “shut the hell up, I didn’t pay £5 to listen to you cough your guts up”.

When the teacher started writhing his way into my view to beckon me into the centre to be his demonstration dancer, I couldn’t quite believe he’d breached the ‘we buy you drinks, you leave us be’ agreement. At that precise moment, I decided to cough up a retching performance worthy of hospitalisation. His retreat was instant.

Despite being bullied into headlocks, breastlocks and bumlocks, I still enjoyed my evening. That’s because the bit I really love comes afterwards. Armed with a Coke and a Kit Kat, we sit and watch the ballroom. I love watching people (in a non stalker kind of way) and find the dance floor to be a swirling feast of deliciously intriguing characters. The Posers, the Hopeless (me), the Fabulous and the Adorable. I have favourites in every category who amuse me for hours.

Exhausted, I was unable to last until the very end so was driven home in Salsabum's 4x4 with heated seats. I do love a warm botty so but was running out of excuses to stay in the car. I eventually let her leave and transferred myself to my toasty warm bed.