Let me hear your body talk

There's a considerable amount of chatter going on between my muscles today. My abs are doing their usual day-after-dance protest, and my thighs are in competition with my shoulders for who can complain the loudest.But overnight a new muscle has gone from whispering to screaming - making it uncomfortable to sit this morning.

Quite literarly, Jessica worked my butt off at Fit Hop last night.

I'd love to boast that after two weeks of Fit Hop Flop I'd mastered the steps and could pop it like the best of them, but in the haze of a busy day, I forgot Jessica was going to switch it up a bit.

Actually, she switched it up a lot.

Not just with a new routine, but a whole different style of hip hop.

Dance Hall.

Go ahead. Google it. Got an image?

Now erase it. Class wasn't anything like that.

Just when I thought I'd figured out how to make my hips "pop" without looking seriously ridiculous, Jessica took away the "pop." Dance Hall requires a smoother motion - less jerky, more sexy. The steps are a little Latin dance-ish, with the occasional "pop" for effect. (Marking the only spot I could truly keep up.) The new routine includes only one move I'm familiar with - a scoop, scoop, chest pop step - and even that one felt out of step.

Never mind the whole African dance free-style motion introduced at the end of a complex series of unfamiliar moves. I'd been flailing my arms for almost two songs before I finally figured out I shouldn't be waving them in the air, but rather swaying them in front of me as though doing the limbo after a couple of margaritas.

Maybe next time I'll try the margaritas first.

In the comfort of my living room, of course. Because there is NO way I'll be grooving out my shaky Dance Hall moves while waiting for the bus (nice try, Jess) or shimmering my booty like J-Lo down the grocery aisle. Ha!

I'm not going to lie. Dance Hall threw me for a loop - a giant, hip circling loop. I focused really hard on the basic step, making sure to push rather than pull my leg into a side step. I even figured out how to move my arms. And I didn't actually get lost until AFTER the front step (right, hip pop, left, hip pop) lesson - because then Jessica added "different" arms.

Progress, right?

Absolutely. But here's something better. When I crawled (yes, crawled) out of bed this morning, plugging my ears against the chatter of my aching muscles, I pulled on a pair of pants that felt...looser. And the shirt I'd been yanking over my love handles last week slid a little easier over a tank top that wasn't turning me into a sausage today.

I haven't changed my (bad) eating habits, and other than dance three times a week, I haven't exercised. So, could my body be changing already?

Good question -- and a conversation I'll have with my muscles when they're in a better mood.

The Book In My Bag Today: Kindred in Death, J.D. Robb