"Two, three, cha-cha-cha," Veronica Peschansky '06 repeated over the loud Latin music playing in the background of the Ballroom Dance Club. I had thought that ballroom dance wouldn't be too hard, considering that I have a good 12 years of dance tucked under my belt. So what if I never improved, and, if anything, just became less flexible? I consistently attended dance class for the greater part of my post-natal life, fooling me into thinking that I might have finally found a club at which I wasn't too horrible. Standing on the outskirts of a blob of people in the multipurpose room of the Shapiro Campus Center, I quickly learned that my discounted black and pink Chuck Taylors low tops that are a size too large weren't proper dancing gear. My pea green crocheted leg warmers proved to hinder my dancing abilities, as well. But alas, it's unfair to blame my inability to keep a beat on my footwear.

Two dancers dressed sleekly in black stood at the front of the group. Peschansky, along with her partner Georgi Gospodinov (GRAD), demonstrated the moves with the president of the club, Brienne Engel '06. Peschansky gave an abbreviated cha-cha lesson for everyone who missed the first meeting of the semester. I learned by a show of hands that only three people had never attended a meeting, but judging from their sparkly open-toed heels, I concluded that they had danced a step or two before. I started to perspire.

From where I stood near the back and off to the side, I had to strain my neck to see Peschansky's feet. Eventually catching on, I wondered what to do with my arms. Being the awkward, uncoordinated girl I am, they remained stiffly by my side. I cha-chaed my way further away from the group.

Things soon sped up. While listening to the perky Peschansky tell us how to add some sexiness to the mix, I felt something fall from my shirt, as if on cue. Utterly perplexed, I looked down. Upon closer inspection, I let out a soft gasp. The horror! The little cluster of rhinestones that for some reason hung from the middle of my rather expensive and colorful Victoria's Secret bra had fallen to the floor! They probably didn't want to be associated with me and my lack of rhythm. I picked them up and dropped them into my pocket, praying that nobody saw the sparkly doodad drop from my shirt, and also that my decomposing bra can be salvaged. Those little plastic suckers added a good five dollars to the price.

When I came out of my brassier tragedy, we were learning something called the "New Yorker," which involves pivoting 90 degrees while simultaneously swinging out your arm in a graceful yet sexy fashion. I tried my best, but couldn't help but feel like I was having a seizure.

This wasn't going well, I told myself. Perhaps the shoes were preventing me from letting out my inner Selena. I scampered to the side of the room and laboriously untied the culprits. Cursing myself for not wearing socks over my tights, I slid back into place. After a few close calls involving splinters and near-spills with the turnarounds, a move that involves a minor spin, I decided the Chucks were perhaps the way to go. After five minutes of tying up the long laces, I squeaked back into my spot, futilely trying to get back into the groove.

After about 30 minutes of wannabe sexy hip movements and jerky rib shifts, or rib isolations, the lesson came to an end. It was capped off by Engel and her partner, Edson Jeune, a University of Massachusetts graduate, honoring us with a dance.

I found out that the teachers, Peschansky and Gospodinov, have only been dancing two-and-a-half years and three years, respectively. However, the ease with which they glided, dipped and isolated their ribs seemed to indicate many years of training.

That's why Peschansky said she likes ballroom dance; it's an easy type of dance to learn. Maybe for her, I think.

"It's much sexier to dance with a partner," Peschansky said about why she chose ballroom over other types of dance.

"With a couple, there's a lot of energy exchange," Gospodinov added.

This passion for dance seems to be found in many of the people who attend the club. Consideration was another attribute shared by club members. I didn't catch one person snickering at my inability to follow any of the steps. Everyone was focused on the instructors in the front, concentrating hard on mastering the steps. It was a nice environment for learning something new, even if most of the other people weren't learning for the first time.

Although the team was preparing for a competition for the upcoming Saturday, anyone is allowed to attend the classes. Newcomer lessons are held Thursday nights at 9 p.m. in the multi-purpose room in Shapiro. The Ballroom Dance Club holds weekly classes with a professional instructor, in case your dance goal isn't to compete.

"I just love to dance," team member Elizabeth Pascale '09 said plainly.

I asked Joseph Brodsky '09, a new member to the team, why he chose ballroom.

"Tap dance is for sissies," he said bluntly.

As far as I'm concerned, Ballroom Dance club is not for the weak hearted sissies. After a night of sweating, faulty bras, cha-chas and the wrong shoes, I am definitely prepared for anything. That being said, I think I'll grab a tub of popcorn and rent Mad Hot Ballroom next time. It's not you, Ballroom Dance, it's me.