Falling apart in half time

This evening I started one of my "holy crap depression sucks, let's be done with it" projects. I haven't actually been depressed since the end of January, but I'd made these plans then, so it seemed like a good idea to stick with them.

So I just finished my first MTV Choreography class. One hour of very fast, bootie-tacular moving. I'm actually pretty pleased with myself. Not only did the instructor (who is completely wonderful) call me out for doing a couple of moves especially well(yay!), but by the end of the class I was doing a sequence of moves I was sure I would never figure out.

Like a good type A I have already downloaded the song we're learning our routine to so I can practice in private moments I steal away. I should really just be continually enrolled in dance classes of some kind because dancing and learning routines makes me ridiculously happy.

They also make me kind of sore, but that's just age and being out of practice.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Get up" by Ciara

HRH