Skin Deep

Wow… there she was.  Petite.  Toned.  Shapely.  Very Cute.

I was thinking that this was going to be fun.

I am afflicted with a mild case of sinistrobipedalism – – two left feet – – when it comes to dancing.  However, I try and not let that stop me from actually getting out on the dance floor.  Indeed, I look for opportunities to learn to overcome that problem.  (okay, I’m not really *that* bad).

A while back, my dear friend found just such an opportunity in a local offering of Latin dance lessons and, bravely, agreed to go with me as dance partner.  The flyer said we’d learn the ‘standard’ Latin dance steps – salsa, cumbia, bachata, cha-cha…

We arrived to find a small-ish class with a variety of people, to include one very cool dad who brought his just-barely-teenager daughter.

Excited for this adventure and  learning something new (plus expecting to get a bit of aerobic exercise in the process), I was even more jazzed when the instructor arrived.  She was that babe I referred to leading off this post.  Hot, Puerto Rican with a cute little Latin accent.  Eyebrows a-wiggling, we started the lessons.

…at a very high speed.  I’m not talking about the tempo of the music, but rather the speed at which the instructor was teaching the steps.  Fast.  Too fast.  Okay, to be fair, there were a couple overachievers who were getting the steps right away.  But the majority of us were left in the dust as she showed us a step, let us practice a couple times, then charged off to the next step with a terse, “Okay?  Good.  Let’s move on!”, without even asking if we felt comfortable knowing the step.

I was getting frustrated.  This wasn’t as fun as I’d originally thought.  Now, I was getting good aerobic exercise.  But felt I wasn’t really learning much.

When she started teaching us intricate arm weaves to go with the steps…and most of us were even more lost…she started to get very impatient with us.  Almost like it was a race to get all the steps in, whether we knew them or not.  And we rookies were holding her up.

I was starting to not like her quite so much.

Then, the last straw…

The young teenager?  She was getting frustrated too.  She started taking longer breaks (where, bless her heart, she was actually doing homework…and they say kids today aren’t good…).

The dance instructor bitch (did I slip in that extra qualifier? Hmmm… [grin]) called the young girl out.  Loudly.  Publicly.  With a very chastising tone not necessary at all, she chided the young girl for not dancing.  Now, I’m sure you remember that awkward early teen time in your life and how the littlest slight can be devastating to the ego.

So… when the instructor did this?  It was like a switch was toggled off in my head…okay, both heads.

This spicy, good-looking woman became suddenly – and irrevocably – very unattractive to me.

Beauty is, indeed, skin deep.

…and the ugly inside can make the beauty outside a moot point.

Tags: bitch as a noun, bitch as an adjective, false advertising, two left feet