Fat Lass goes to Dance Class

The next thrilling installment in the life of Fat Lass

Fat Lass goes to dance class

One day, Fat Lass was having coffee at her mum’s house.
“Shall we go to a dance class?” said Mum. “My friend told me about one she goes to; it’s called Broadway Boogie. It’s like jazzercise.”
Fat Lass wasn’t so fond of Broadway and was even less fond of exercise but had to admit that getting off her ass might be a good thing.
“It’ll be fun,” said Mum.
Fat Lass turned up at the venue in joggers and a t-shirt with holes in it and armed with an old water bottle that she found in the back of the cupboard. She looked around at the older ladies, dressed in their superior gym attire and sipping from their glamorous, expensive containers and felt rather out of place.
Mum was talking to someone she knew, of course. Mum knew everyone. Fat Lass pressed her back to the wall and looked at her feet until a small, lithe woman bounced over like a spandex-clad tiger.
“Hi! I’m Linda. Are you here to join us for Broadway Boogie?!”
Fat Lass nodded shyly.
“Excellent! Great stuff! So pleased to have some new members, you’re going to have so much fun and it’s really easy. And if you don’t find it easy, then just dance around and do your own thing, I don’t mind. I just have a few forms for you to fill out,” said Linda, whipping out paper as if from nowhere. “Oh, is this your mum? I have a form for her, too!”
Fat Lass and Mum, spurred on by the tiny ball of enthusiasm that was the instructor, retreated to a nearby table to fill in a questionnaire about their health and general well-being.
“Right ladies, time to get started!” Linda shouted from the stage as she pressed play on the music.
Fat Lass liked to dance and found that regardless of her ample frame, she was actually quite good at it. Well, she had done Zumba classes a few years ago. And she actually liked some of the music, especially that one from The Greatest Showman. Hugh Jackman really can sing.
Within a few weeks Fat Lass had picked up most of the steps, and enjoyed going every week. Mum enjoyed it too, although she was less co-ordinated and mostly flailed around right at the back so no one would see her. They started going to the Wednesday class, too, which was less Broadway and more Strictly Come Dancing. She learnt the basic 10 step and how to samba, the Charleston and the box step. She was thinking of applying for the show.
They continued to go for a few months. Fat Lass couldn’t say that she had lost weight because she was still eating like a piggy, but it was fun and she assumed it was keeping her limber.
Then came the lead up to Christmas and the classes stopped for a break. Mum was panicking over the Christmas dinner like she always does and Fat Lass came down with a cold that one of the kids had picked up from school.
On Christmas Day, Fat Lass was still sick but managed to power through with the help of presents, food and gin. She wasn’t going to let illness get in the way of enjoying Christmas with her family, God damn it.
The new year came and went and Fat Lass was still ill. The cold symptoms had passed and she felt almost back to normal except for a hacking cough that would not go away. Every now and again, if laughing or walking out in the cold air, she would dissolve into a huge coughing fit, leaving her gasping for breath with tears streaming down her face, her make-up smudged everywhere.
“Are we going to dance this week?” asked Mum. “Should get back into it.”
Fat Lass knew she should be getting back to it but did she want to go back to it? No, she did not. But she went anyway, her breath catching as she stepped out of the car on that cold January morning.
“Right ladies! I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas!” shouted Linda from the stage, already bouncing around on her tiny feet. “If you’re anything like me, you ate more sweetie treats than you should have. Time to burn it off! Warm-up!”
They started with the slow song and Fat Lass thought it wasn’t too bad. She stiffled a few coughs but kept going. When the song finished she dashed for her water bottle. Mum asked if she was alright and she nodded quickly.
By the second song, Fat Lass knew she was in trouble. Her chest was constricting and suppressing the urge to cough was getting painful. In all honesty Fat Lass should not have gone to dance class. She should have stayed at home in the warm, drinking soothing tea and watched TV. That would have been the sensible thing to do. However, Fat Lass was not always the most sensible and instead was now choking on her own breath. She was wheezing, too. When the next song started, Fat Lass was leaning over the ballet bar, thinking she was going to die. Mum was looking worried and some of the other women were looking around in curiosity. Fat Lass was mighty embarrassed.
“Helen, can you take over?” came Linda’s amplified voice and suddenly she had sprinted to the back of the room, peering into Fat Lass’ face. “Everything alright?”
Fat Lass nodded and Mum told her about the cough.
“I’ll be OK,” squeeked Fat Lass, and paused to cough. The red raw embarrassment of many pairs of eyes was making her squirm. “I’ll join in on the next one.”
“Absolutely not. Why don’t you sit there, on those stairs?” Fat Lass plonked herself down. “Are you feeling nauseous or do you have pain in your arms or back?”
Fat Lass shook her head emphatically, knowing that she was checking for heart attack symptoms. “No, no. I’ve had a cough for a few weeks, I thought I was feeling better but I just needed a little break and I’ll be OK soon.” She was starting to breathe better already. She also didn’t like all the fuss.
“I actually can’t let you continue with the class, I’m afraid, and I’ll have to fill out an accident form before you go. Are you sure you’re alright?” Fat Lass nodded again, disappointed that she couldn’t dance today. But she also understood Linda’s predicament. She couldn’t let Fat Lass carry on and then potentially drop dead in the middle of that song from Hairspray. It would be a bit of a bummer and everyone else would have to step around her.
“OK. If you’re sure, I have to get back up there. Take it easy, drink your water and enjoy the music! Give me a shout if you feel bad again.” And she took off again, like a colourful bird.
For the next forty minutes, because Fat Lass had only lasted approximately seven minutes, she had to watch the rest of the class dance from her solitary confinement by the stairs. Mum offered to leave a few times but Fat Lass declined. She didn’t want to ruin her fun, too. Every now and again Linda would peer her way and silently ask with a thumbs up and a frown if Fat Lass was OK. She was, but she was also bored. When the class finished their final wind down tune of some slow song from some musical Fat Lass didn’t know, she stood up quickly and was bombarded with all the old ladies asking if she was alright. Fat Lass didn’t like attention and just nodded and assured them that she was fine, it was just a cough, probably shouldn’t have come, ect. She was asked if she had asthma. No, she didn’t.
As everyone began to disperse, Fat Lass and Mum went to Linda, where she was waiting with some forms.
“Well, you gave us all a bit of a scare then!” Fat Lass apologised. Linda asked for details and jotted them down in an untidy scrawl. “Have you been to the doctor’s about this cough? It could be an infection.”
Fat Lass knew the wait times on doctor appointments were weeks long now and she also had never liked going to the doctor’s for anything particularly minor. If Fat Lass was going to bother a doctor it would be for something like her finger or leg falling off, not for a piddly little cough. Linda noted that she had not, in fact, seen a doctor and glared.
“Now, I want you to book in to see a doctor as soon as possible,” she said firmly. Mum was nodding along. “Nothing is more important than our health.”
Fat Lass nodded too, agreed that she would call as soon as she got home and was soon given the all-clear by Linda to go home and rest. She advised chocolate and lemon tea and hoped to see her soon.
Getting into the car, Fat Lass knew that she wasn’t going to book an appointment. That might upset Linda and incur her disappointment. She also knew that because she had caused a scene, her self-consciousness and discomfort would make it difficult to face everyone.
Fat Lass has not been back since.