Monday, September 26, 2011

Happy happy Happy gym or l'esibizione
Today I woke up with a migraine headache. It might have to do with my allergies and the dog, donkeys, and pollen from last night.  I had heard my music for today all night long in my head at faster and faster intervals. I had clenched my jaw so tightly that I couldn't open it. My rib cage hurt from the new side sit ups I did this week that I couldn't breathe. Then I remembered that due to my Chronic Reality Avoidance Psychosis (or CRAP, if you will),  I had kind of never gotten around to choreographing my part of the show for today in Piazza Grande.

When I rehearsed at home the music F had put together to me all the sudden seemed much too fast and I ended up choosing two different songs at the last minute. I drank a huge amount of coffee and took a pain reliever and warmed up.  Finally it was time to go down to the piazza.  When I got there I saw the set up for a ton of bakers selling their wares under orange awnings and a mat all set up for the Samurai Karate school. This was the same school where T had taken a sample class two years ago with us and a bunch of black belts and the main teacher had slapped me full across the face because I didn't understand his instructions. In Italian. With jet lag. Thank goodness for him F didn't see it because that could have gotten brutto. But we decided not to have anything more to do with him or the school. So it was a joy to see him there. Then fifteen minutes later in the adjoining piazza I saw the set up for my Happy Gym.  Ahhh Happy gym.

I tried to help one little girl get her hair done and then I asked Francesca, the boss, how many dances were going on and when my turn would be. She said she didn't know but that I would be teaching some of the other teachers even though we had never practiced together and they didn't know my technique. You might recall that we had a staff meeting in which we talked about the importance of wiping down the mirrors and stuff like that, but we didn't practice or discuss what we would be doing for the exhibition or with whom or in what order.  Instead, an announcer guy would read a description of the class and what time it will be taking place on the schedule and then we were to go out on the plastic stage and do our thing in front of about 75 people who I think were mostly parents of the kids in the show.  Almost all of the dance teachers were smoking seconds after they left the stage. In the video, I'm the one on the right, not smoking, and the two teachers on the left (contemporary and zumba) were very nice and good natured about jumping in and taking my pretend class.


In fact us purple t-shirted staff just spontaneously gave back up for other teachers for zumba and other classes. I did not do the Waka Waka zumba dance (see earlier post) even when implored to do so by Francesca because as you well know I am only one waka away from bed rest for my back going out.  I hopped in only once because they had called my name for the curtain call of the staff and while I was on the stage they all broke out into a crazy latin number choreographed li per li, then and there, by the hip hop guy. After my turn there were many more kids classes and it seemed that most of the audience were there parents and not prospective new students.  At one point, there was this pause while they were waiting for the belly dancers to get off the autostrada so I volunteered to dance a solo. I don't know why but I had an adrenalin rush and the hip hop teacher boy refused to do a duet with me so I just went out by myself.


At the end of the show, big, black clouds gathered and the wind picked up.  I ran with Francesca's husband and little daughter Gemma to my house were we were preparing a little after show party for the teachers. Gemma is a little darling and she kept looking out the window and shaking her little head in mock worry while saying dramatically, "tutto buio, tutto buio," which means "all dark." She liked to sit on our stairs and turn on and off all the lights and to take a hair rubber band and put it on and off all our wrists.  She called me mamma and T tata which means nanny in Italian.
Cuteness with natural talent to boot!
Finally, a bunch of the teachers and staff, I think, showed up soaking wet and we toasted to our futures by drinking prosecco out of the first place cup that Amanda won with her troupe in Roma this week. We served them F's homemade gorgonzola bread with the toppings. Then when we gave a tour of our home they went upstairs to see T's room where of course our laundry was still out on the line. The whole day was summed up for me in the moment in which I realized that my thong underwear was hanging on the line and that everyone was looking at it and trying to not look at it, including me. Awkward. Moving on.
Say "Formaggio!"
Now it's a party!
Right after the party we hopped in the car and took off for the house of my little fidanzato (see post from sept. 5) because it was Lorenzo's birthday celebration today.  I ate as much pizza as I could and then almost fell asleep in my plate.

P.S. Does anyone think that it is funny that out of all the gyms in the world, the two that I work at are called Happy and LIFE?

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