Friday, December 3, 2010

It's Not Vegas, It's Zumba!

My mother would beg to differ, but I have always wanted to be a dancer. And by "always" I mean since I was in college. So, thats....10, 11 years? I've lost count.


1. My junior year in college (pronounced year 3 in university) my roommate, Lindsey, and I were watching a VH1 show on Vegas girls (don't judge). We were blown away. The dancers had the most amazing bodies ever; lean, muscular, tall, perfect. This was the exact opposite of our figures as we were both in the midst of fraternity-party-old-enough-to-buy-beer-lazy haze. We wanted to be just like them. Linds and I sat in the hot tub, drinking Coronas, that afternoon dreaming of learning to dance and moving to Vegas. Call us naive, but we didn't realize that most Vegas girls are topless. That may have changed our opinions.

2. I've looked into adult beginner ballet classes several times. Don't judge.

3. Every dancer I have ever know is sleek and graceful. Again, my polar opposite.

4. I can't dance. Therefore, I want to know how to dance. I'm not an ambitious person, but I do like a challenge every now and then.

Anyway, I have found a solution! I have found a place filled with people like me that absolutely, without a doubt, in no uncertain terms cannot dance.

Hallelujah!! Hallelujah! Hall-eeee-luuuu-jaaaaaah! (Cue the angels.)


It's all over down in the States. I've seen it. I've laughed really hard at the people in there. It makes for great people watching. I chuckle as I walk by on my way to spin class. But secretly, I wanted to try it.

So finally, months and months, and 14 pounds on my mid-section and thighs (fine...and butt) later, I went to Zumba.

Last night was the first night. I smiled through the whole thing and made a fool of myself. It was like pilates, but super fast. And dammit if I wasn't sore today. So I went again tonight. I learned a few things. Made some observations, if you will.

1. No one but the teacher can dance worth a lick. Ha! She was French, dancing in Spanish. That's funny.

2. It's a miracle I didn't break an ankle. Or a tail bone. Or a metatarsal. Or my dignity.

3. These shoes are not meant for the cha-cha. Or the merengue. They don't slide well. But who cares?! I don't know how to dance anyway.

4. When on Earth did it become okay to let your bra straps hang out? I'm not talking bra straps falling out from under a sleeveless top. I'm not talking about sports bras. I'm talking about a hot pink bra under a racer back (sorry guys if I've lost you) shirt. This is not acceptable where I come from. Excuse me, but can you put away our bra straps? And P.S, it might be time to do a load of laundry. Great. Thanks.

5. If you can force yourself to stop staring at the instructor's feet for two seconds and take a look around the room at all the middle age moms, you might pee your pants. They're hysterical. No one was having more fun, in all of Canada, than those ladies. If I didn't hate the expression "You go girl!" I would have totally yelled it.

6. These shoes were meant for Latina dancing. But only if I've had a glass of wine. Or three. Who am I kidding? I can't dance in these. I have to take them off after fifteen minutes and put on the flip-flops I hid in my purse.

7. Not only did we dance to latino music, we danced to Michael Jackson (may he rest in peace), Jessica Simpson (my hero) and the Spice Girls (hello high school!). It was epic.

8. The most serious person on Earth should take Zumba because it is 1,000% impossible to take yourself seriously. Go ahead, try imitating your French instructor doing the sexy circle move. Go ahead, see how serious you are now. I'll wait.

9. Rule Numero Uno: Do NOT talk while in any sort of aerobics class. These three girls, I don't know how old they were, talked incessantly. I almost, as my mom would say, had to knock them into next week. I needed one of those signs from golf tournaments that say HUSH. I'm non-confrontational like that.

10. For a few seconds during every song I would finally get the moves down and feel the beat of the music. And for a second, just a split second, I could picture myself on the Vegas stage.


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