Zumba Makes Me Laugh-Out-Loud

I talked Dani into going to Zumba with me on Saturday.

I've been telling her how awesome it is,

how the music makes you want to move,

the time flies by

and the instructors are great.

She believed me.

That was BEFORE the class started.

I'd never been on Saturday mornings

I know I said I was going before but for whatever reason,

Saturdays are crazy during the school year.)

Any-stinkin'-who,

We went on Saturday--

and there was a new Instructor,

Elody.

Who I am pretty sure is 

on crack.

Think Zumba

on crack.

She wasn't really on crack--

she had about 8 to 10 other Zumba instructors

in the class--

(they all had Zumba! shirts on too!)

she was showing them her stuff.

I saw this,

and yet 

I stayed.

The music cued up,

the instructor started "instructing"

and I use that term lightly--

she was a big honkin' show-off

is what she was--

and then I had a spiritual experience...

I started praying--

"Oh help me keep up,

Oh help me not die."--

and other assorted, varied pleas to 

my Maker.

Fifteen minutes in it,

my face is blotchy red,

I am sweating like a stuck pig in Mississippi,

and guess what, chicken butt?

So is everyone else.

I look over at Dani--

who is fiercely trying to keep up with

this maniac instructor--

and she looked worse than when she was in labor
6 months ago.

I motioned for her to get a drink of water 

with me...

she followed.

"You don't have to do everything she says,

just keep moving. We've already done 30, I mean 15 minutes."

I say to her.

Dani asks,

"I thought you said this was fun?"

Takes a drink and asks,

"You coming back?"

Of course I went back.

How could I not?

I went back to my "spot"--

and noticed two young teenage girls

behind me,

I turned to a little blonde gal 

and said,
"I'm nearly 49 years old, 

and I may pass out, 

but don't worry--

my daughter is right there (pointing to Dani)

and she knows CPR."

The blondey smiled at me.

I went back to searching

for the salsa beat

for my feet to get in rhythm with--

and try as I might,

I couldn't make my body

move

like it was
on crack.

That's when it happened--

it was loud,

unrestrained

bordering hysterical--

laughter.

I couldn't hold it in--

this was insane!

How on earth did this instructor think

ANYONE 

without professional training

could keep up with her??

Yet, there I was--

twisting

turning

rhumba-ing

cha-cha-ing

spinning

twirling

touching my nose with my tongue

speaking Zumba-ese

with the best of 'em

and it was ridiculous!

I laughed so hard,

I couldn't breathe.

Well, I couldn't breathe anyway,

but oh-my-hex

a funny bone was hit with a sledge hammer

and I couldn't help myself.

Of the 50 or so women in the room,

maybe 20 knew what they were doing--

the rest of us

were making up our own steps

modifying the crazed instructor's steps

in the name of

Survival!

No longer was I praying for relief--

I was looking around me for a soft place to land!

I was moving my bahooey

to a latin beat

wearin BROWN sweats

and I started thinking I might make it

despite the evil instructor's effort to slay us all

with her bahooey-shakin' moves.

I was gonna live to tell the tale!
And you know you're a TRUE BLOGGER

when you're in this kind of situation

and start taking mental notes of just how

you're going to tell this story!

And then you curse yourself for not

bringing a camera--

cuz the pictures woulda told the story so much better!

Anyway

Anywayyyyy

A Shakira ("hips don't lie" gal) ballad

came on

and I knew the cool down was there.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel.

I had survived.

The paramedics were not called in--

there were no casualties Saturday at the YMCA.

We would all live another day to 

Zumba.

Which for me,

is tonight at 7:30pm.

Bring It.

Me and my brown sweats will be there!
And hopefully, Dani too.

Oh oh Oh!!

Gotta add this: When I checked my Body Bugg stats that night, it said I'd burned 1400 calories and did over 4000 steps in that one hour!!!!  Can you say, Worth the Pain??!