domesticait attempts to zumba. stop laughing.

While we are dedicated to trotting Beef around town twice a day, really the only time I work up a sweat is fanning smoke away from the detector in the kitchen (yesterday’s meals … 2 for 2!).

So, when a friend of mine became completely enamored with Zumba, the NEW LATIN FITNESS CRAZE, I decided to join her for last night’s session.

Hoo boy.

15 minutes before class:  Zumba-going friend, who also happens to be very skilled at music and rhythms and very slender, calls.

“Are you still planning on coming?”

*I pause, playing all of the embarrassing scenarios that come from huffing through an hour of cardio after seven years of sloth*

“OF COURSE.”

10 minutes before class: Lots of awkward standing by me, who almost forgets to check the consent form.  IT’S A SIGN.

5 minutes before class:  Hmm … a variety of women have assembled.  Maybe this won’t be so bad.

5 minutes into class: HOW DID THOSE SENIOR CITIZENS TURN INTO MERENGUE MACHINES???

15 minutes into class:  Establish spontaneous personal ban on shimmying in public.

30 minutes into class:  HALFWAY POINT.  Hoodie is flung in the corner and am trying to keep up with the song that declares that I am sexy, and I know it.

45 minutes into class:  Zumba veteran next to me whispers, “It’s almost over.” 

60 minutes into class:  Cool down exercised to “Don’t Stop Believin’.”  As is the case after any type of physical activity, I think to myself, “this wasn’t so bad!”  

 Then  I remember the “smack the pony” move, and reconsider.

Returning home:  Loving husband, perched on the couch with a bag of Doritos, eyes his glistening wife and asks how her experience was.

“I have too many sticks up my ass for group fitness.”

zumba-ers.
 
domesticaits
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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One thought on “domesticait attempts to zumba. stop laughing.

  1. bairloch February 20, 2012 / 10:13 pm

    You made it through, that’s awesome.

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