So some of you may know that I have just started taking Zumba classes at the Y near my house.
Something that I didn't realize about Zumba is that no prior instruction is given - you are just expected to pick it up as you go. As it turns out, there are DVDs you can get and it would seem most of my classmates have bought them and been practicing at home so they do not look like an ass in class. I find this concept absurd. If I am going to buy Zumba DVDs to do at home, why the hell would I pay $35/month to go and do them again in a class at the Y? At least no one would see me flailing about like a carp in my living room. Apparently, there is Zumba Gear one can buy. It consists of tank tops with ZUMBA scrawled across it and brightly-colored cargo pants with tassels hanging off the tushie and at the knees. What purpose these things serve is beyond me. As I have an ample backside, I hardly think I need tassels calling attention to it further.
Last Thursday and Monday when I went, the teacher was a nice lady named Susan who is maybe a size 2 on days where she's bloated. She was toned and willowy and moved like a dancer. She was very good at giving directions (as in which way we would be spinning or turning).
Tonight's teacher was like a tiny woodland creature jacked up on Red Bull and Sour Patch Kids. She did completely new routines that I did not know, which was fine. Then she had to go get water and allowed a woman (I use the term loosely - she is maybe 22 and insists on wearing her clothing 2 sizes too small, exposing pudge, something today's youth insists on doing) to teach a few routines to us. This not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman led the class in a few routines which, mercifully, I was able to pick up. She is a certified Zumba instructor (I have overheard her say this to another lady in the class). She needs to lead with more confidence and she might be a good teacher. She needs to raise her arms above her head when she's in the tanning booth, though. She has major armpit lines from where they were at her sides.
The woman in front of me tonight was older. Her ample bosom was about at her waist and she sported a t-shirt that said, "ZUMBATHON" in hot pink letters. She could've tucked her boobs into her exercise pants. (This reminds me: Is there a polite way to tell someone they need a better supporting bra?) She had White Lady Ass (WLA). This means she had no ass, though she had butt sweat. As I was unfortunately positioned behind her, I saw every time I looked up. I'm sure she's a very nice lady and makes awesome zucchini bread from the zucchinis she grows in her garden every summer.
There seems to be a Latin pre-op transvestite in the class as well. She is like an inverted triangle as far as body shapes go, though she has large boobs and a potbelly. She also loves to slather herself in as much Zumba wear as possible and screeches at random intervals.
It sounds like there are no normal people, but there are. I do not include myself in the normal crew because, let's face it, I'm not normal. I prefer interesting people. And I have hit a goldmine. Who knew that in suburban IL next to a soybean-corn field there would be a Y with interesting folk? Not I!
I had homemade pizza for dinner tonight. I ate it 75 minutes before class started. At the 45 minute mark in class, I was ready to barf it up. That's when I decided I had had enough of flailing about and didn't want to try to figure out the moves anymore. When we did stuff I couldn't figure out quickly, I made up my own steps. I actually skipped for 5 minutes. I did the Butt. I nearly did the Hammer at one point. I was amazed at how relaxing it was to just not give a rat's ass about figuring out steps and being in sync with everyone else. At one point, a tween girl looked at me and then looked at her mom quizzically. Her mother just shrugged.
I feel that I could get the actual dance steps down if shown how to do them. The ones I figured out, I totally got into and caught myself thinking, "I could take Latin dance classes and be like those crazy people on 'So You Think You Can Dance' and be a pro!" And then I realized I was going left when everyone was going right.
Tonight I sported my "The Onion: America's Finest News Source" t-shirt to show I have a sense of humor. I actually met a few classmates who have a sense of humor. Stacie and April are very nice and told me they expected to see me next Thursday. So I guess I have to show up again.
Something that I didn't realize about Zumba is that no prior instruction is given - you are just expected to pick it up as you go. As it turns out, there are DVDs you can get and it would seem most of my classmates have bought them and been practicing at home so they do not look like an ass in class. I find this concept absurd. If I am going to buy Zumba DVDs to do at home, why the hell would I pay $35/month to go and do them again in a class at the Y? At least no one would see me flailing about like a carp in my living room. Apparently, there is Zumba Gear one can buy. It consists of tank tops with ZUMBA scrawled across it and brightly-colored cargo pants with tassels hanging off the tushie and at the knees. What purpose these things serve is beyond me. As I have an ample backside, I hardly think I need tassels calling attention to it further.
Last Thursday and Monday when I went, the teacher was a nice lady named Susan who is maybe a size 2 on days where she's bloated. She was toned and willowy and moved like a dancer. She was very good at giving directions (as in which way we would be spinning or turning).
Tonight's teacher was like a tiny woodland creature jacked up on Red Bull and Sour Patch Kids. She did completely new routines that I did not know, which was fine. Then she had to go get water and allowed a woman (I use the term loosely - she is maybe 22 and insists on wearing her clothing 2 sizes too small, exposing pudge, something today's youth insists on doing) to teach a few routines to us. This not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman led the class in a few routines which, mercifully, I was able to pick up. She is a certified Zumba instructor (I have overheard her say this to another lady in the class). She needs to lead with more confidence and she might be a good teacher. She needs to raise her arms above her head when she's in the tanning booth, though. She has major armpit lines from where they were at her sides.
The woman in front of me tonight was older. Her ample bosom was about at her waist and she sported a t-shirt that said, "ZUMBATHON" in hot pink letters. She could've tucked her boobs into her exercise pants. (This reminds me: Is there a polite way to tell someone they need a better supporting bra?) She had White Lady Ass (WLA). This means she had no ass, though she had butt sweat. As I was unfortunately positioned behind her, I saw every time I looked up. I'm sure she's a very nice lady and makes awesome zucchini bread from the zucchinis she grows in her garden every summer.
There seems to be a Latin pre-op transvestite in the class as well. She is like an inverted triangle as far as body shapes go, though she has large boobs and a potbelly. She also loves to slather herself in as much Zumba wear as possible and screeches at random intervals.
It sounds like there are no normal people, but there are. I do not include myself in the normal crew because, let's face it, I'm not normal. I prefer interesting people. And I have hit a goldmine. Who knew that in suburban IL next to a soybean-corn field there would be a Y with interesting folk? Not I!
I had homemade pizza for dinner tonight. I ate it 75 minutes before class started. At the 45 minute mark in class, I was ready to barf it up. That's when I decided I had had enough of flailing about and didn't want to try to figure out the moves anymore. When we did stuff I couldn't figure out quickly, I made up my own steps. I actually skipped for 5 minutes. I did the Butt. I nearly did the Hammer at one point. I was amazed at how relaxing it was to just not give a rat's ass about figuring out steps and being in sync with everyone else. At one point, a tween girl looked at me and then looked at her mom quizzically. Her mother just shrugged.
I feel that I could get the actual dance steps down if shown how to do them. The ones I figured out, I totally got into and caught myself thinking, "I could take Latin dance classes and be like those crazy people on 'So You Think You Can Dance' and be a pro!" And then I realized I was going left when everyone was going right.
Tonight I sported my "The Onion: America's Finest News Source" t-shirt to show I have a sense of humor. I actually met a few classmates who have a sense of humor. Stacie and April are very nice and told me they expected to see me next Thursday. So I guess I have to show up again.
