Unsafe at Any Size

Lucky me!  I had a day off from work.  Did I do something useful?  Clean the house?  Heck no!  Instead I went to the gym to check out a zumba class.

I had no idea what zumba was, but many twitter pals thought it was fantastic.  So I didn’t go in completely unprepared, I checked out some Youtube videos.  I was not encouraged.  There seemed to be much neon spandex.

But I persevered!  I went to the class, and it was chock full, despite being at 9 am (don’t these people have work or something?).  I was encouraged! Lots of people, even men, at a time most people are working (including me).

But then I noticed people were wearing jingly scarfs, like belly dancers wear.  Yikes.

The music started, a latin beat that was great fun.  But the instructor didn’t bark out instructions like most exercise instructors; indeed, she said little but had a big grin.  No, she simply danced and we were supposed to try to follow along.

I am not terribly coordinated.  I gave up on step classes because they required way too much coordination.  Unlike step, it didn’t look like if I took a misstep I would break my ankle.  But knocking into someone else was a real risk, because they didn’t know what they were doing either (though it was hard for me to know; my eyes were riveted on the instructor as I tried to figure out what she was doing).

Then everyone was encouraged to join in a big conga line.  I tried to get into the “this is fun!” spirit, but I can’t have fun if I don’t know what I’m doing.

Then someone offered me a jingly scarf to tie to my hips.  Now, even if I knew exactly what I was doing, there would be no way in hell I would be putting a jingly scarf on my hips.  I’m just not a jingler.  My hips jiggle enough without having jingling added in.

I’m sure if I knew what I was doing, it would have been a great workout; certainly, the instructor was sweating up a storm.  Not me.  I probably should have focused more on just dancing than exercising, but I was there to exercise, dammit!  Exercise is supposed to be intense!  It’s supposed to HURT!  You’re certainly not supposed to smile or wear jingly scarves or be part of a conga line.

At the end, everyone whooped.  I thanked the instructor, who astutely figured out that it was my first time zumbaing.   She asked if I’d be back.  Even if I didn’t normally have to work, I don’t think I’m a zumbaer.

Instead, I came back at eleven to do the kickboxing.  As I kicked and punched imaginary enemies, I realized maybe I just don’t have the zumba spirit.  Maybe I just need to pummel something!

But if I have another day off, should I check it out again?  What should I be doing?