Day 39: It's Ella, Bitch.

As luck would have it, I had the day off on the annual Fête de la Musique, a day that Paris decides to celebrate music; bands, musicians and singers perform on practically every street corner all over the city. Music Celebration Day? Just another layer of what makes this city so bite size and lovable. Before the evening's festivities started of what would be musical mayhem, I decided to change up my workout routine take that hip hop class at Le Centre de Danse du Marais that I have been wanting to take since I moved into the neighborhood. 
Not wanting to shlep all of my old crusty t-shirts and sweatpants across the Atlantic back when I was packing several years ago, its safe to say that my workout attire is limited. Going to Les Cercles de la Forme in old rags was one thing but I was going to a dance class and I needed to look official; but not like I was trying to hard. I turned my apartment upside down as I was trying to find a tough outfit for my Hip Hop class. And then it dawned on me. Why didn't I think of this before? I had just the out fit. I walked into Les Centre de Danse du Marais (yes, you have to say the whole thing) smug as a rug and so bad ass in leggings with a small rip on the inner thigh and a pink Hole t-shirt, circa 1994. How do you like them apples? Can't you just hear the motorcycles revving?
I arrived a few minutes early to class to stretch out and feel part of the group with my super cool grungey-not-trying-to-hard outfit portray like I always come here. You know, just another dance class. In Paris. C'est ma vie. 
No one cared.
Being a former student of the incredible albeit militant Bev Brown at Broadway Dance Center, the woman who taught me to never fear the one handed push-up, how to properly launch a pirouette and how to pop and lock; I must say, my moves weren't that bad. A bit rusty? Yes, but not ridiculous as I am in Belly Dancing where my teacher just feels sorry for me. My age crept back up on me as we learned a choreographed dance to a song I have never heard of and by a voice that was far from familiar. I come from the school of Britney and J.Lo (pre 'comebacks')and all of this new noise is hard of my delicate older lady ears.
Going back to my dance roots and reconnecting with my love of physical activity, I realized that I had forgotten that this was a huge passion of mine that I kicked to the wayside while in the nook of love. Where the hell did I go when I was in a relationship? Each day that passes and I rediscover myself, I am more shocked by how much I denied my interests and to no fault of Monsieur Flâneur, he was always supportive. As our relationship progressed, it was him who had become my passion and interest, making me less interesting by the day. I would have broken up with me to...
Today is about reconnecting with my interests. Will I be the next Jennifer Lopez? Doubtful. But I feel damn good popping and locking  and getting down the choreography of dance while biting my finger and winking at myself in the mirror. I totally did that.
Le Danse Centre du Marais
41, rue du Temple
75003 Paris