Day. Ruined.
Ask yourself this - if your favourite restaurant closed - would you stop eating?
Monday morning. 6:30am. The alarm you optimistically set the night prior, right before two hours doom-scrolling a questionable mix of babies, dogs, and incurable diseases - is now screaming at you to get up and go to work.
You briefly consider using your newfound medical ‘expertise’ to call in sick.
Then you remember, the one thing that always gets you through.
The thing that will have you take the high road when up-herself Brenda from accounts makes one of her patronising remarks. The thing that will hold you back from insulting Henri from the faux-French crêperie in the lobby when he once again raises an eyebrow at your ‘apparently outrageous’ order of a topping-free crêpe.
Tonight, you have a dance class.
And, you have a new fit planned - an expensive consequence from yet another poorly timed late-night scrolling expedition.
At 3pm, after four unsolicited visits from Brenda, you open your booking app. Partly to check. Mostly because just looking at it gives you the tiny adrenaline hit you need to survive the last stretch.
Wait.
What is going on?
Who the heck is Lisa?
And where is Mario?
This is Mario. Where is he?
You start to spiral and feel very unwell. This is not good. You jump onto the Dance Babes 4evs group chat. Jess has already beaten you to it with two words: Day. Ruined.
Your three-emoji reply reads like the stages of grief: shock, anger, despair.
What more is there to say?
Jess: We could just go anyway. I really need a boogie. Today has sucked a$%.
You think of Brenda. Maybe?
But still… you had your heart set on Mario. His playlist. His vibe. The way the whole class just works when he is there. Also - minor detail - he’s an amazing dancer.
You: Who is this Lisa woman?
Jess: No idea. But we’re going!
Day. Ruined.
You spot Jess. She’s waiting under the bright orange neon Dance Dynamics sign, its flicker carving harsh shadows across her face, like she is a character in a film noir. By the time you push through the studio doors you are convinced the night will be a waste.
Lisa, the perky imposter of an instructor surveys the half-full class. You think she looks guilty, and so she should, she has hijacked your night.
The music starts. 90s r&b. Step touches. Grapevines. Mario would never.
At the end of track two you notice Jess smiling and clapping a little too heartily for your liking. You glare at her. Traitor.
Track four hits and Return of the Mack comes on. Halfway through the first chorus, you catch yourself singing along. By track seven, Shoop, the situation has escalated. You are fully into it, woohooing and dishing out high fives to anyone within reach.
F*** you Brenda!
Lisa looks your way and screams, “Yes, get it gurl!”
Now Jess is wide eyed and glaring at you.
What. Is. Going. On?
An unsettling truth starts to dawn; you might actually be… enjoying this.
It’s not what you signed up for. It’s loud. It’s giving 80s aerobics. And yet, here you are - out of breath, slightly unhinged and wanting more. When Lisa calls for the cool down you feel genuinely disappointed. You and your new outfit are drenched with sweat and surging with endorphins - you feel great. Lisa suggests a class pic and you find yourself next to her, arm in sweaty arm, face raging red and giving the peace sign. Future you will regret the peace sign but, in this moment, you are too high to care.
Mario who?
Suzie Pappas is a dance and fitness teacher and social media producer at Dance Dynamics. She holds a Master of Arts in Creative Writing.
