I've been taking zumba and flashmob classes at the YWCA for a little over a month now. I'm awful, but I love it. Maybe I love it because I've embraced my awfulness. I dance being aware that if I'm the worst dancer in the room, I'm making everyone else look better, so my awfulness is a mitzvah, a small kindness for all the other dancers that costs me nothing 'cause I have fun.
It's taken a long time—57 years—for me to be comfortable with being awful in public. If I could tell my younger self anything, I would tell him to delight in looking bad, because that lets you do all the things you love.
And by doing them, you get better. Maybe not better than anyone else, but real competition is never with anyone else.
And while I'd hesitate to say I'm not still the worst dancer in the room, I do know a few steps now that newcomers take a while to learn.