I am all for new experiences… to an extent. I prefer them to be planned, I like feeling in control, and I shan’t–SHAN’T!–willingly step into a situation that almost certainly guarantees personal humiliation.
So why on earth I voluntarily signed up for a Zumba class is completely beyond me. Zumba, a “latin-inspired dance-fitness program” (sic) where participants are routinely expected to “booty shake,” involves dance skills that I simply do not have. My booty, as it were, is unshakeable. I know this to be true because anyone who has seen me dance before usually winds up looking something like the following:
Yet there I was on Monday night, fear-sweating at the back of the Zumba classroom, dignity be damned. The kind friend I had harassed into coming with me (bless her heart) assured me we’d get through this together, but that I should probably stop referring to the instructor as a “tanned Goddess” (…oh but she was). The room was packed, which I decided was a good thing–more people to hide behind. But I still couldn’t shake (heh) the feeling that what I was about to do went against everything in the “Sarah Survival Guide,” and that I should run away screaming NOW, and the fact that this scene kept looping in my head probably meant something signficant.
But you know what? I stayed, and it. Was. AWESOME. Seriously so much fun. After the frustrating first five minutes of trying to make my hip move vertically whilst dodging the flailing fist of the young woman next to me, I suddenly realized that I was grinning like an idiot and bouncing around with the best of them. Plus no one was paying attention to my awkward gyrations anyway because everyone was too busy trying to keep up with
the tanned Goddess’ our instructor’s energetic demands that we “FIESTA! SALSA! GET LOW! MOVE THAT PELVIS! SQUAT! HANDS UP! SMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILE!”
For those of you who have been to Zumba before, I’m sure I’m preaching to the choir. But for those of you who haven’t, gosh darn it you gotta go. Like ASAP. I went into that room with zero dance skills, and I left not caring that I still had zero dance skills. I had fun, I felt great, and I’m definitely going to bust out my “fiesta” moves the next time I’m on a real dance floor. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go practice my booty shakin’ for next week.
For those of you interested in becoming a Zumba-phile, check out Trent’s fitness class schedule here.