The surprise of a decade!

Because that's probably how long it will take me to get over the shock... I still can't seem to believe it happened.

I'm turning 30 this Wednesday at 10:06 am. I love my birthdays. Every year, I look forward to the one time the whole year where I can put together all my favorite people (my friends) and all my family (also my favorite people) under one roof for a few hours just for me...with all the selfishness that entails. It's MY birthday. It's what I want.

I never quite see my age as a factor to worry about. Ever since I was very young, I've always wanted to be older. I've never really looked my age, probably until now. Finally, I feel that my real number age is starting to catch up with how I've felt for the past, oh, 20 years? Exaggeration? Perhaps, but very close to reality.

However, this year, I was kind of done throwing myself my own birthday. Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed every birthday party I've planned for the past five years: beer and dinner at Lompoc, drinks at the Bitter End. Dinner at Noodles followed by drinks at Touche, dinner at la Calaca Comelona followed by dancing at Mambo Lounge. And finally, the scariest of them all: Kareoke! This was the tough year, however, after having been with the same person for 5 years, my first birthday with out him. I was lucky enough to still be on speaking terms with him, but at least I had my friends to distract me from his absence, not to mention cute boys to flirt with.

Now comes 30. I thought it nice to do something big and over the top, but I felt that I'd pretty much already done all I could do to top myself...except a surprise party. I always had this Romantic notion that my significant other would plan this elaborate party for one of my birthdays and we'd all laugh, and I'd cry and the night would be tied up in a fantastic fushia bow with dancing. After 5 years it never happened, but that is also A LOT to put onto one human being and a lot to expect on my end. So when my friends and sister-in-law started to inquire about my birthday plans for the year, oh in APRIL, I said, "Eh, no big deal. Perhaps something quiet. I know thirty is a big year, and I'm not afraid of it, I'm just don't feel like throwing myself a huge party." A surprise party, I was asked? Yes, I've always wanted one, I replied.

That was April.

Fast forward to last Saturday. Things had been coming together nicely for me. My cousin finally gave me the go-ahead that he and his gf Karla were visiting. I rounded up a few of my friends for some beers and pool the Friday following my actual birthday, dinner with the family on my REAL birthday was finalized so I was pretty much set. I was really excited too because my SIL was planning a cocktail party just around the time my cousin and his gf were gong to be here. Perfect, I thought! What a great way to celebrate a welcome to Portland. Little did I know...

Saturday rolled around, and my best-friend Kelly drove up from Corvallis to take me out for a pre-birthday breakfast. She can't make it to my celebration cuz she's busy being an amazing DIY bride! We hit one of my favorite breakfast spots, Byways Cafe in the Pearl and proceed to wonder around for the next couple hours, talking weddings, family, boys and getting older. We have so much history together that if I'm in a foul and negative mood (which I totally was! Thanks for putting up with that Kelly!) she's just tell me I'm wrong. Ha! It was great. She even held back a bit of banter, all in my honor!

Finally, our lovely day was coming to a close and I had to get ready to go to a cocktail party at my sister's, (you can read her account of my party here )but I really wanted to get a pedicure. And because I'm so anal, I had all my clothes and jewelry and set out for said party and good thing, because I was running late! When I got home, I was a frantic mess! Ah! I thought, but its ok, its just a few friends. Usually I primp and prim for about, oh, an hour to get things just right. Not this time. I threw on my strapless brown dress, which incidentally caused a little bit of a mini-drama: I finally broke its zipper. Morgan helped me pin it closed because I knew I'd have to be cut out of it, oh well. But no fear. Off we went: pin-ed dress, vintage jewelry and hot pink flip flops. It's just a small get-together I kept telling myself...it's not like its that big a deal. (This is what I tell myself to stave off the freak out...little did I know.)

My friend Kristin texted me just as I was getting into Morgan's car. When are you heading out, she inquired. I told her we were on our way. So I'm in the car telling Morgan how hungry I was and trying to steer clear of any negative thoughts to do with my dress, or how I didn't really do my hair or that I didn't re-do my make up. I just chose to be positive about the whole ordeal. It's ok, it's just a small get-together...

We get there and I start looking for Kristin's car. Ok, she's not there yet. Then I grab my stuff (right, I had a change of cloths because I knew I'd have to get cut out of my dress) and walk up the stairs. I try the door. It's locked. Ah, the 2 second frustration. I knock. Paulo screams (as usual) "IT'S OOOOOOPEN!" and I think to myself "no it's not" then *poof* magically the door *is* open. I push through and to my surprise there's a group of people that look vaguely familiar all standing in the entry way screaming "SURPRISE" at me. At first, I thought "what? for who?" and then I saw streamers and I sign that said "30" as well as a few familiar faces that weren't *supposed* to be there, and being the smart cookie that I am, I put it together. The surprise is for ME! They're here for ME! (I'm actually shaking as I write this right now, haa haa, reliving it!) And in true Navarro form, I start crying, crying and shaking and laughing and crying, and more shaking. I didn't know what to say. Krista hands me a drink to calm my nerves, but no matter, I can barely get it to my mouth without spilling! And in true Navarro Mom form, she comes rushing up to me as I'm basically weeping and just hugs me for a while. I'm her baby you see, her little tiny baby who is turning 30 this year. I'm so overwhelmed with happiness that all I know to do is laugh and cry, all at the same time and one by one my family members come and give me hugs. Man, if this is how I get at a surprise party...imagine a proposal and then my wedding? Future husband be warned =)

So as the crying finally subsided, hugs for everyone. There some new faces (Z and G) and some old faces (Kelly, you totally lied, Kristin, Golda and Bruno) and some faces I'd not see in months (Diane) and of course, my tried and true (Payal and my family, (Tom and David are pretty much family).)

Hungry? Yeah, that went away fast, so drinking it was. Krista, being the caretaker that she is, shoved a plate in my face and I began to fill it with a few things I thought I could down: some salad, roasted beets and mini sopes. Other than that, no food for me and there was a lot of food I regretfully did not eat!

I had a wonderful time. Better than I could imagine with great company, a great location and fantastic food and boos. I was in Andrea heaven. And the cherry on top? An impromptu dance party filled with Sir-Mix-A-Lot, Beyonce, and Christina Aguilera, just how I like it followed by an impromptu Argentine Tango performance with Bruno.

This year, I've come to realize and appreciate how lucky I am to have a family that loves me and I love them, and this moment was just an even bigger example of why and also of how grateful I am. And this even showed me how my friends are a big part of this too. I've never felt more loved. I've been through little emotional bits here and this past year and a half and am just so happy I have this support system.

I'm so happy (perhaps a little exhausted) all all those months of lying and my mimi freak out was so worth it all in the end. I'm not really sure how else to say it so I'll just say it simply: Thank you and I love you.

Bar Withdrawl

Yesterday was my last day of my 30 day unlimited pass at The Portland Bar Method and already I'm having withdrawal. I miss the heat in my burning muscles, the super hard pretzl positions, the dance music, but most of all, I miss the feeling of accomplishment I feel after I've done it.

I decided that my working outs will consist of reshaping my body and helping my body to dance better. Obviously a wonderful side effect would be to lose some weight and trim up, but I'm trying really hard not to focus on that. SO about a month ago, I started going to The Portland Bar Method, which is kind of a mix of Pilates, Yoga and Ballet all in one. I knew that if I wanted to be a better Tango dancer, I needed to start strengthening my muscles and working on my posture. Well Bar has done/is doing just that for me. Not just for Tango do I need this however, I've been going to a chiropractor for a problem with my pelvis and she too was very adamant about needed to have better posture (core training) and stronger muscles to protect my joints. Mostly I can crack every bone in my body and usually there is *something* in my body that hurts or gets injured. When I run, my back feels like its going to snap a part and my knees hurt. When I bike, my knee pops, when I Tango improperly, my lower back aches. So I've been trying to correct this for the last year. So far, so good! And the last time I went to the chiropractor, she could tell the difference in my legs and glutes. My glutes are a big problem because although they are the largest muscle in the body, (are they? I should look that up...) I never use them. For some reason I taught myself to use my back instead. So these last few months have been all about re-training my body to use its muscles properly. That's where Bar comes in. We get into a bunch of contorted positions that make you REALLY think and focus: ok, use that not this, feel it here and here.... and that I do. My only regret, however, is pushing myself too hard to the point of injury. I was out for a week in total because of that and I felt bad. I pulled my hamstring last year and apparently, re-injury is quite common and quite easy.

So these next couple weeks, I'm taking a break from bar. I'm going to go to a massage therapist to see if she can get the scar tissue out of my hamstring and glutes. I'll still try to do some walking and perhaps some light weights.

So, my goals for this year: More bar to strengthen those muscles, more tango. I think I didn't go ONCE this month, start walking, maybe move back into running a couple miles a week or so and learn a new dance. Hip-hop perhaps?

Oh and also, after my birthday festivities and all the eating I'll be doing, I've planned on doing a vegan cleanse for a week. Not like the crazy one I did last time, NO THANKS! But this one is all smoothies and vegetables as well as grains. I think I can live with that!

Injuries SUCK

Last year, like most after ending a long term relationship, I decided to try some new things (discover who I am) and some old things (re-discover who I was.) I decided I wanted to stay active and I missed sports. The only sports I ever played seriously was volleyball. Soccer I touched upon (since we're a soccer family) but volleyball is where I stayed. I started playing volleyball in 6th grade. I've always been pretty athletic and can pretty much pick up any sport and be semi-good at it, so volleyball too came naturally. What didn't come naturally, was my parents having to shell out a bunch of money for me to get better. You see, 6th grade was probably about a year after we got back from Mexico: broke. So while all my other little 6th grade friends attended volleyball camps and clubs...I didn't. I played Winter Ball, which is the poor man's version of camp. So by the time I got to be a freshman in high school, everyone that was on the same level as me, or even below, got that much better...way better. My best friend from middle school was freshman starter for Varsity...I was on the freshman team. Then next year I made JV. I figured that was the case because I was in a car accident that summer and couldn't perform my best. I hurt my back. Junior year, my coach was SURE I'd make Varsity because I was the best on our team. Nope, back to JV. I also figured it was because I sprained my ankle bad that summer, so again, I couldn't perform my best. You see, I do better when I'm challenged, not when I'm on top, so I figured one year of Varsity under my belt and I'd be golden by Senior year. She had other ideas. Basically the head coach told me that there was and never will be a position for me in Varsity, would I like to be the towel girl? I said fuck that. (Sorry...it upsets me, and no I didn't really say that but I was PISSED!) I had been going to her volleyball camps since 6th GRADE and she still didn't see me as Varsity material. My parents were finally able to afford a PSU camp where all the coaches thought I was already on Varsity. I was good. I wasn't great, but I was good and I knew I could get better.

After the heartbreak, I turned full force to theatre and music...and that's basically who I became...a singer and dancer. But I still wondered what would have happened had I continued playing sports.

So fast forward 9 years and I decide to join Kate's underdog Volleyball team and it all comes rushing back: the muscle memory, the competitiveness, the adenine rush...and the injuries. Obviously, I'm not as young as I used to be and in my naivete, I start playing without warming up and POW...pain in my butt, literally...it goes all the way down the back of my leg. Hmmm. I wonder, I've never felt this way before. I play one more game and it gets worse. The pain originates from the bottom of my right butt cheek, around the bone, all the way down the back of my right leg's knee. It doesn't heal. I can't turn over in bed, I can't get out of the car, I can't turn and twist my leg, driving hurts, sitting hurts. WTF. After a couple months of pain, I go see a sports medicine dude. He takes an X-Ray (which is for bones, yes.) And says there is no damage to the bone, but what might have happened was a bone to muscle tear, versus a muscle to tendon tear and that it takes MONTHS of recovery. Well, F. Here comes me getting fat.

Now, fast forward another year...and I hurt it again and again. Every time I think its healed up, Youch! I feel it again. The problem is that now, this is the muscle I have to use for all my dancing! It's quite depressing. I mean, I can recognize the first inklings of pain, but since doing bar method, I'm in sore ass pain every single day, so I didn't notice the difference. So, I decided I need to take a break, a one week break. THAT'S SO LONG! I'm super bummed.

So here I am, ice pack on my leg and butt, heating pad at night and mom playing physical therapist and massaging only the area I would have liked a boyfriend to massage: my butt. *sigh*

Here's to a speedy recover. Send good healing vibes my way so I can start up my bar come Wednesday.

Memorial Weekend-Central O

I never have plans on Memorial Day. That's seems like almost a travesty and usually I think it is. How I'd love to be invited to go camping or BBQ with friends or the like. Instead, I slept, slept and did more sleeping. I did do a lot of thinking about what this day means, so it wasn't a complete waste of brain space.

My roommate had her best friend from Kentucky in from out of town, Tina. They were chalk full of plans: Beach on Saturday, Mt. Hood area Sunday, Central Oregon Monday. She's not seen her for about a year now and I know how that goes if I've not seen my bf for a year: I want her all to myself. So as much as it sucked to not hang out with them (cuz the roommie and I are pretty cozy and each others' wing woman in times of hiking and dancing) I totally understood. But then the roomie asked if I had plans on Monday. With a certain someone and his "perhaps" of a hang out looming in the air unresolved, I decided to take her up on it. She invited me to go with her and Tina to the Painted Hills in Central Oregon, Mitchell to be exact.

So off we went. I took A TON of pictures, but I'll only include a few. It's lovely to travel with the ladies cuz one or all three of us always need a pee break at some point ;)

Here we are at a rest stop almost there. You can see the terrain start to change.





Here we are at a res stop AT the painted hills. Man, its breath taking.





Finally, we drive up to the Painted Hills view point and this is what we see:





I, in all of my 30 years (almost 29 more days, yay!), have never seen anything quite like this. I felt like I was not only in a different state, but on a different planet. I was in awe. Sadly though, it was raining during most of these photos but we took it like champs. Here we are at the trail that explains the painted hills. I was too busy trying to stay dry and take pictures, as were the girls.





That there is Morgan, doing her best to hide.

Our next stop was the indoor John Day Fossil Museum then back home.

We decided to take a different route back than the way we came in and so glad we did. Apparently through Condon, Oregon there is are wind turbine farms. I have been this giddy since Jurassic Park came out when I was 13. I'd never seen anything like it, especially up close! It's my new favorite thing. It's such a contrast between serene landscape and technology. It's just so awesome.











Back at another rest stop in Biggs. Across the river is Washington and to the left is Portland. We're on our way home!




Finally, a beautiful sky to such a wonderful trip!



*click to enlarge photos.

On immigration

Oh no, she's getting political on us. Actually, not really. I hate politics and I hate discussing politics with anyone but my inner circle. I have this problem with seeing things both ways so it's hard for me to make a decision. I suppose I respect the other person and their opinions so much that other people might get pissed off at me for not being pissed off enough.

Immigration is a touchy, sensitive, divisive and personal issue for me so that's why I never comment on it.

I shall give a little background on my family, but keep in mind, this is all oral history.

My dad came to this country in the 1960s on worker visas. His dad came to work as a bracero in the 1940s. (Side note: my siblings and I are trying to find any documentation on this at ancestry.com and we might have, very exciting.) He did not stay here. He decided to move back to Mexico once his visa or arrangement had expired. My dad, however, had other plans. My dad only has a middle school education even though he loves to learn and one day dreamed of being an architect. But of course, his situations could not accommodate that. He lived in a room with my grandmother and 4 other siblings. There were no beds and barely any clothes. To this day, he'll never go camping because he grew up sleeping on the floor. His dad was absent most of his life. He decided that there is something more and better in life so he came to the US for his "American Dream". He got his paperwork in order and crossed the border....legally. Now this is where it all gets fuzzy. My dad is the type of guy that puts a sunny disposition on things. He doesn't like to talk about the darker parts in life, or the struggles unless there is a lesson to be learned. So my dad came here, year after year, with visas in hands to try to get legalized papers. He'd overstay his visa until he got kicked out, but would continue the process once he got a new visa. They were tough times. He showered in a bucket and had one meal a day. He lived in LA. He hated it, but he knew there was something more. Finally, the day came when my dad got his green card. By then, he'd moved up to Portland (I think). My pops LOVES to play the lottery, so he bet on the horse races and won. That was enough money to furnish the apartment and go marry my mom. So that he did. He headed back down to Mexico, married my mom, impregnated her on the honey moon and headed back to Portland. A year or so later, when my oldest brother was 8 months old, my dad came back with all necessary papers to bring my brother and my mom back... Legally.

Ok, so that's our story.

Now, this is what I don't understand about the debate. I honestly don't know how difficult it is to be a "legal resident alien" here in the United States. I know it took my dad YEARS, but still, he did it. Now, I'm not saying its not hard, but my dad didn't go into detail about HOW hard it was.

So now we have this debate going on (which is not new.) Illegal immigrants are invading. Unfortunately, they seem to want to put a color to those illegals. What about the Canadians, or the Europeans or even the white South Americans from Argentina, Chile...? I have not statistics, I'm not researching, this is all just my opinion and my questions. I'm not saying illegal immigration a long the border is NOT problem. I'm not, I sympathize. I can understand how scary it must be to feel like a stranger in your own town. But what gets me is the black and white view of either your illegal or a citizen. The reason I bring this up is becuase I read this article where US senate canditate Rand Paul says "... But I think what we should do is we shouldn't provide an easy route to citizenship." The "easy" route to citizenship is being birthed here. That's for another time though.

So my question is why is it either or? Either your illegal or your a citizen. Where is the "legal resident alien" status of people. In my opinion, the problem is how difficult, how many hoops it takes to come to this country LEGALLY.

Not everyone who comes here or visits wants to be a citizen of the United States. It's a big deal. It's like telling one parent you love them more. If you think about the lyrics of the pledge of allegiance, that's a big deal. You are pledging allegiance to a country you're suppose to love, honor and respect. I take that seriously. When I lived in Mexico for two years, I couldn't say their national anthem. I loved my country. I think that's how a lot of legal residents must feel during that limbo time. Do I really want to go ahead and turn my back on my country, one might ask? It took my parents 40 years to decide to become citizen, not because they couldn't, but because they still hoped to one day go home. But by being legal residents all these years, they still payed taxes, yet they couldn't vote. That was privilege that was not granted to them as non-citizens. After much thought though, they decided it was the right time and an historical time at that. It's small price to pay for the allegiance to another country.

I don't know. That's just how I feel. I have statistics, no studies, no research done. I just have a lot of heart, a history background and a lot of questions pertaining to why people can't try to step in other shoes and ask themselves, if I were in this situation...what would I do?

I guess its the historian with an Ethnic Studies emphasis (don't get me STARTED on that one) in me that makes me ask all these questions, because as you've all heard, history repeats itself and this topic is no exception.

Dance videos

Ok, so this is what I've been up to...

I've been going to Vega Dance Lab in on SE Water for a few months now. After deciding to quit going to the gym (because I can't run any more) I figured I'd supplement my Tango with work out dance classes. My friend Kate was the one that recommended this place to me after I mentioned I wanted to try out something a little bit different than standard partner dancing, but also needed to get a work out. Our first classes together was something called Burly Q. It's basically a Burlesque dance class and I LOVE it! The music, the moves, the instructor Evie. Sadly, she is on maternity leave, and I am on leave from that class right now too. The sub-instructor is super talented but leans heavily toward hip-hop which I TOTALLY suck at, and therefore does not make the dancing enjoyable, so I shall wait. In the meantime, my roommate had been going to Tease n Tone, so I decided to join her. And man, did I get addicted!

Tease n Tone is a one hour class. The first half hour is intense cardio, but dance style, the second half hour is a dance routine. Below is one of the dance routines. Usually, they'll change after 2-3 weeks. On the last day of class, the instructors tape the routine. If you look closely, you can see me and my roommate in the way back.




Now, here is a taste of what Burly Q is like. Man, I love it! Can't wait to start it up again.



Seriously people, these dance moves are so sultry and easy to learn and adaptable to any dance. Also, its a teeny little routine that I'm sure you can use for other times...if you know what I mean ;)

So, not only is Vega awesome because it has cool people and cool dance classes among other things, they also have workshops! As you know, I dance Tango. Even though I've been doing it about a year now and I know many moves and steps, I think my technique is bad. I know what to do with my feet, where to put them, how to stand, but I think I just lack proper technique in *how* to hold myself up, how to hold my legs, etc. Also, in Tease n Tone and Burly Q, there is a lot of hip shaking and leg turning and such...so I figured I'd take a Beginners Technique to advance my understanding of how my body should feel when I do certain moves and what it should look like. So last weekend was my first day. Our instructor is awesome! He's adorable too and I think probably 10 years younger than me but I love him! He's so sweet and positive and its EXACTLY what I need stepping into this new realm. I'm scared of dance, but I want to learn and be good so bad, that I don't let it get in the way. And having an instructor that's all "hey, be positive, allow your body to move and learn and don't be afraid" is just that much better.

And just because I can't get enough of moving my body...I'm doing the Portland Bar Method five days a week. I'm on day two, so come next week, I'll have a little review of what's going on with that. But I will say: it's totally helping with my technique too.

So...enjoy the videos and maybe one of these days you'll join me at one of the classes. Seriously, its fun!

On Dancing

I'm kind of a walking contradiction of sorts. I'm a reserved person, but I like attention. I like to perform, but I feel overwhelmed in groups of people. I like being one on one, but too much of that kind of solitude leaves me antsy for being social. Quien me entiende!

Growing up, I was an EXTREMELY shy kid. I didn't like the spot light, I didn't want people to notice me. As I grew a little older, apparently I grew a little bolder. I'd performed in choir since I can remember, and I even lip sank "Catch Me I'm Falling" for our 2nd grade talent show. Who the F was I back then!?

Then it all changed...I moved to Mexico. Why the move affected me so much, I honestly have no idea, but I can now pinpoint that I became a different more frightened person. It was also the time that I got my period and placed me a part from all the other little girls. I guess that was it. I was different, always have been and always will be. I embrace it now (to an extent) but when you're 9 years old in a foreign country, held back a grade, speak with a funny accent, have no friends AND start your period...ya goddamn do feel pretty different. Compound that with coming FROM a country where you just stick out like a sore thumb being the only Mexi-American...Yeah, I had issues...still do to an extent. I'll get to that on some point.

I didn't really have friends growing up in Mexico, but I did discover that I REALLY loved to sing. The dancing? Not so much. Why did I hate the dancing? Probably because my dad LOVED the dancing. At weddings here in the states, my dad would drag me on the dance floor and we'd dance rock 'n' roll songs. I did really enjoy it, but in Mexico, I dunno, something changed. I wanted to disappear, I wanted to hide, I didn't want to be noticed so I tucked the dancing away for a very very long time...a kind of rebellion I could control of sorts.

I think I'd always had the performer's bug. When we got back from Mexico and I entered middle school here in the states, I began to seriously think I could be an actress. I could really get wrapped up in emotions, "act" it out, cry on cue. I thought "this is it, I could do it." My mom did indulge me here and there and even took me on a few auditions. I'd look through the yellow pages for talent companies and such, but I think deep down inside, I knew the money to put me in a program like that would be too much, so I just started to give up. I did stay involved with choir in middle school and auditioned for a play here and there. I loved it.

I didn't start dancing, formally, until let's see, sophomore year in high school. I was in the musical "Little Shop of Horrors" as one of the 17 doo wop girls. (Yes, in the original there are only three, but our director decided it best if 7-8 girls sang the one part.) So I had to learn choreography and what better choreography to learn than music from the 50s. It was so much fun! It was a thrill to be able to express this silly, theatrical side of myself because for so long, even still, I keep it at bay. The for one of our multicultural assemblies, I volunteered to perform the Mambo with the only other Mexi-American (who happened to be also my psedo little brother) and it all came flooding at me like a side-ways flash from Lost (you like how I did that?) I thought to myself: "omigosh! I love this music, I can actually move, look at my hips? I can *feel* it..." So it was no surprised that when I was exposed to Salsa my freshman year in college, I was hooked.

Now, I'm not saying I wish I was all "Jazz hands" and such (I love "Bring it on"!) because I don't. I like who I am, but I could use a few self-improvements here and there. I love performing, singing and dancing, but that's just my performer self. Then there is the real me. The self-contained, quirky Andrea. But ms. quirks sometimes REALLY wants to cut loose and that's where performer me needs to step in. And what does that for me? Dance.

So this sounds so dramatic. No, I"m not going to Julliard, I don't care for ballet or Jazz and the thought of needing/wanting to learn hip-hop makes my tummy convulse. But the thought of just letting go and doing what I love half an hour every day, is quite appealing. I like my life, I like how its going (for now) and there are some areas that I definitely could change, but dance makes it that much more tolerable. It gives me a space to vent and to just be. And an added bonus? It's given me quite the ego boost...and I really need it. When I look at myself in the mirror while dancing to the latest routine in our burlesque class or tease n tone, I realize: "dude, I'm not as fat as I thought" or "wow, I actually DO look sexy doing this" and it gives me that extra pep, that extra confidence if I were to EVER go up to a guy and say hello, because regardless of what that guy might say or think, I can look back at the memory of my gyrating my hips and thinking "too bad for you guy, you're gonna miss out".

And what prevented me from taking dance seriously? Fear. Fear of sucking, fear of what others thought of me, fear of liking it even... So like many, after a 5 year relationship, I looked at myself and said "what do YOU want to do?" I told myself: I want to learn how to Argentine Tango. And the same answer popped up. "Oh you can't, you're terrified of physical contact with strangers, plus you always said you wanted to dance this with a boyfriend." (this is the third Andrea speaking, the one that kind of doesn't like me.) And so I told her "Fuck it. I don't care. This is what I want so shut your face." And her face did shut.

And yes, I'm one of those odd birds who only likes specific physical contact. Dancing at clubs was always very difficult and traumatizing for me. Can you blame me? I was raised Catholic. Being touched by someone that was NOT your husband is kind of no no. So I've developed this love/hate relationship with touching and hugging. And three months into Tango came the close embrace. Yeah, the embrace where you're basically boob to boob on the guy. It took me that whole month not to cringe. Not cuz the guy was smelly or inappropriate, but because I wanted to turn and run. But I wanted to learn and be good at Argentine Tango more. And now, almost a year later, I'm a close embrace whore. "Would you like to dance? Close embrace? Thank you!"

Now, why Argentine Tango over Salsa, you might ask? Salsa is fun and flowy and out there and in your face and sexual...Does that sound like me? Not.at.all. Ok, maybe in the bedroom (did I just say that?!) Tango, in my opinion, is more like me: quietly passionate, self-contained but bubbling below the surface. The sexuality is not in your face, but in the subtly of the movements and the look in your eye. That's more how I am on an everyday basis and even though hugging complete strangers "titty to titty" as they say is TOTALLY out of my comfort zone...well, I like to do things that challenge so go figure. Salsa is fun, but that's all it will ever be...just fun, like that hot guy you flirt with but would never consider dating.

I know I may not be the best, most talented or graceful dancing, but I'm willing to put the work in to try. So what I've decided is to start working on strength training and flexibility versus just cardio. I can't run any more *tear* so most of my work out will solely benefit Argentine Tango. In addition to Tango, I also do burlesque dancing (really more of a work out) as well as tease n tone. I like moving my body in those sexy, sultry ways, but I like to move them in a safe environment and what better than a class full of women. Ok, sure, there might be some lesbians but I choose to ignore that. I guess I know my own power and don't want some dude coming up to me and humping my leg ;) Yes, I've had that happen before...Ah college.

So dancing? Check. Work out? Here I come. I've decided to join the Portland Bar Method. I've not started yet but it sounds like something that will be right up my alley. I've tried yoga and it just never worked out for me. I tried pilates and its OK, but I'm hoping the Bar will be more of a dancer's work out than anything and if I end up losing a few inches here and there, well fantastic. All I really want to do is gain strength in my legs and back so I can do turns and bend.

So off to my next journey. On the schedule for today? Argentine Tango. Practice makes perfect.

No wonder I've always liked dance movies...