Well I did it. I broke down and gave in. I can officially say that I am the last suburban mom in America to try Zumba. Last week my neighbor invited me to join her in trying the exercise class based on Latin rhythms. If you're not already laughing that's because you don't know I am an almost six foot tall Irish girl with hips and feet that are not exactly on speaking terms.
For those who are not avid Zumba fans I'll tell you the class is a series of aerobic Latin dance moves set to music that should be pouring out the back kitchen window of the local Taco Bell. The music is saturate with trumpets and horns. I swear every time I closed my eyes I pictured the singer to be a 4 foot tall Mexican guy with black hair as greasy as my car engine, a shirt mostly unbuttoned revealing a chest full of thick hair with gold chains, and hands adorned with gold rings. If I was being fully honest, this picture of "Rico Suave" included him doing a little Samba action-purely for the humorous effect mind you.
To top it all off, we took the class in the white trashiest town the good Lord every put on this green earth. So, have you got the picture? Zumba class with Latin dance moves being done by mostly white trash woman. This was enough to keep me giggling. I haven't even gotten to the part where my hips don't lie.
So, the class started and I did my best to keep up with women who obviously attend this class on a regular basis. They were even doing shout outs for music requests like we were at a Hot97 rap party. The standard issue Hispanic teacher gyrated her body in perfect rhythm while I was lucky to be facing the correct direction most of the time. At some point it occurred to me that as rhythm challenged as I was, I had somehow been able to conceive and give birth to two children-oh if they could only see me now! Pumping my arms back and forth as if I was auditioning for an MC Hammer video. I'm pretty sure that even though my kids are only 2 and 1 they would have fallen to the ground laughing. Hell, I spent most of the class laughing because of course we were facing an entire wall of mirrors.
As the class continued, I resembled a person being stung by a thousand bees with arms and legs flailing about. I squatted and thrusted with all the zeal I could muster, but still managed to project an aurora of an epileptic seizure. Tightly pursed lips and a stern expression of concentration completed my look. In truth, I looked constipated most of the time. If I knew how ridiculous I would look, I would have brought my video camera and posted the disaster on YouTube - at least I could have made money.
After 60 minutes with music by Ricky Riccardo's descendants it was time for the cool down. Oh the joy. They managed to take something as simple as stretching muscles and make it Latin complicated. By now my cheek muscles were raw from all the laughing. I just might have pulled a jaw muscle. Obediently I stretched and breathed and tried to keep from laughing. The room suddenly turned into a Zen like state. Who knows, maybe everyone's endorphins kicked in at once. I think mine took a left turn down the hall.
I did feel accomplished though. I managed to get through a class made for people the exact opposite of my cultural backgrounds. Who knows, maybe we'll be back next week. Beats doing laundry on a Wednesday night!
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