wanna hear something ridiculous?

I've been trying out this crazy new exercise revolution called Zumba. Let me give you a background story on why I am even posting a story on this said revolution. I don't exercise. Anything that involves the word "running" or the action thereof will result in me not having to do anything with that particular activity. However, I have found myself feeling as if I have ran the Boston Marathon and desperately try to fill my Titanic size lungs with oxygen when climbing stairs. In between blackouts at the top of any staircase I say to myself, "this is insanity, for good grief's sake, please, get some exercise."

All this nonsense leads to my real story of my Zumba experience last night. My Zumba buddy, Julia and myself have promised one another that by the end of our instruction we WILL be sexy. It's just that our hips, cleavage and non-existent rhythm do not seem to want to comply to said promise. By the end of the class last night I determined that I could take Zumba classes for the rest of my existence and never be sexy. Quite honestly if there is one thing I get from Zumba every night, it's a busted gut. 

I Zumba in the back where not even I can see myself. I thought that if I stand behind who I thought was the most reserved gal in the class I could look like a freak till my hearts content. I would like to assume that the little "reserved gal" had a frustrating day yesterday and that all frustrations she felt needed to be worked out through some absurd, chaotic, hip-thrusting, butt wiggling, shimmy shaking Zumba moves. But really, there is a time and place for everything. And when your business is all up in my grill-it's neither the time nor the place. Frequently I found myself staring, mouth agape like a teenage boy at the spectacle before me. At this point I had to remind myself that:

A: I am not a teenage boy, so please, advert your eyes

B. It's rude to stare and some people are just plain crazy

C: As far as I knew, this is beginning Zumba

D. When I am eating your hair, it's too close

and 

E. Who in the world said it was okay to make my personal exercise space part of your zumba freak fest?

Needless to say, I'm kind of excited for the game she brings next week. Oh, and I'm Zumba'ing on the opposite side of the room.

Zumba!

My dear dear friend Julia texted me a while back and asked me if I would like to embarrass myself by trying to shake my hips and keep to the beat of fast paced music. In other words, Zumba. Naturally, I had to think on this decision for a moment. And to myself, I thought, "it's beginning Zumba, how hard can it be? everyone will struggle to look good shaking their hips along with me, right?" With that conclusion I naturally said that I would be happy to sign up with her. The following basically sums up my first Zumba class experience:

And, yes, I am pretty much sure that that the bottom photo is exactly what we both looked like. I would know because they not only force you to make a fool of yourself, but make you WATCH yourself making a fool of yourself in a mirror. To put it bluntly I looked like an absolute doofus. AND IT WAS A BLAST. I can't wait for Wednesday when I can make a complete fool of myself all over again!

oh and p.s.
i was wrong. apparently a lot of older women know how to shake their hips and keep to the beat to fast paced music.