Uh One-and...Two-and... OneTwoThreeFour

I have two left feet.

Or two right feet, depending on where in the room you're standing and how closely you're counting the beat. Either way, I don't have dancing feet and that's a bit of a problem as the Wedding Dance approach-eth.

Now, I don't want to get all "bridezilla" on you, but I have to say that I've been looking forward to this happy occasion for a while now and I have a vested interest in everything going smoothly. I do realize that a wedding is simply the public affirmation of a private commitment and, as long as the groom shows up and the minister (or, in our case, Justice of the Peace) makes it legal, all is good. Still, there's nothing to gain by being haphazard about the affair and leaving the details to fate.

So, my fiance and I started taking dance lessons in an attempt to make that First Dance look more interesting than your typical 3-minute long swaying bear hug. Second only to the vows, this is the next most-watched moment of the day, and I think it would be nice if it didn't inspire collective yawns and furtive glances at the clock.

After giving it much thought and nearly wearing out our welcome on iTunes, we finally chose a song that adequately expresses our feelings for each other and yet isn't a groan-inducing mush-fest. We then found a dance instructor who teaches out of his home studio in the evenings and who didn't seem to mind that we looked like a pair of duckbilled platypuses (platypi?) when we stumbled and staggered and lost count. (That counting business, by the way, is not as easy as it sounds. Yes, I know we only have to count to eight, but there's a technique to it and, frankly, I'm not picking it up as fast as my dancing partner.)

Tuesday night was lesson number three of five and all was going well (uh one-and... two-and...) until the instructor threw in an Open-Break-Underarm-Spin-With-A-Position-Change-Into-A-Side-Cross-Slide-Stop.

Huh?

Really, now. Does it need that many words? Can't we call it what it really is? Its the "Make-the-bride-wish-she-was-hugging-a-bear" move. Or, more accurately, the "What-the-Hell??" move.

We'd already mastered the basic two-step move (quick-quick s-l-o-w... quick-quick s-l-o-w...) last week, and we had even progressed to the more challenging "point-draw-point-draw s-l-i-d-e" move soon after we began the lesson that night. Not too shabby for a girl who can't move to any beat without looking like Jan Brady at the Junior Prom.

Clearly, my off-night practice had been helping, and I'll admit I might have been showing off a wee bit. It was at this point the mood of the lesson changed abruptly.

Perhaps the instructor thought I was getting a little cocky. After all, I did finish the "pattycake" move with a touch of jazz hands. Perhaps he felt I was getting a little big for my britches when I stopped counting out loud, and he decided I needed a little 'Dancing with the Stars' reality check.

Well... check, I did. When the instructor demonstrated the Open-Break-Underarm-Spin-With-A-Position-Change-Into-A-Side-Cross-Slide-Stop (hereafter known as the "WTH??"), he first used his imaginary (and light as a feather, apparently) dance partner, "Shirley"... As in, "SURELY, you can follow THIS step combination Miss Fancy-Pants?"

After a few demonstrations, when he was certain that my confusion was sealed, he took my hand and told my fiance to step aside. What followed was most assuredly YouTube gold. He deftly broke open my underarm spin, positioning me into a cross referenced sideways stop with a pattycake finsh...

Read that: he tossed me like a salad and left me begging for Tylenol.

Me and my two left feet were adequately humbled and I quickly took the jazz hands down a notch. Lesson learned: Ginger Rogers, I am not.

Still, I'm not willing to let a little reality check get me down. I want that First Dance moment to be beautiful and memorable -and not because my husband dragged my high-heel sportin,' fancy gown-wearin,' bridal butt around the dancefloor for the duration of a sappy love song. I want it to be remembered for the grace of two lovers, lost in lyrical emotion on the day of their joining in matrimony, moving in time to a romantic heartbeat...

So, me and my two left feet will keep working until we get it right.

Well, left and right, hopefully.