When the Zumba first hit this nation, I thought to myself, "What is this 'zumba,' and why is America crazy about it?" Googling and poking around on Youtube left me curious but unconvinced, so I decided that I had to try it out firsthand before formulating any serious academic opinions. Before long, I found myself purchasing my very first Groupon ever -- a brand spanking new zumba punch card.
The rest was history.
My first zumba class of my seven-class punchcard was almost my last. The instructor had what could be only described as a ridiculously perfect body. I don't mean just a nice, above-average athletic body but PERFECT, like Great Shape Barbie perfect. In fact, she was dressed much like Great Shape Barbie from the 1980s -- a lot of fluorescent, stretchy, shiny fabric. (I spent a lot of time gazing at her perfect shiny body before my eyes inevitably and unfortunately drifted back to my own feral self.)
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| My Zumba Instructor, Great Shape Zumbie |
Most of the other attendees were of "a certain age," but our instructor (I'll call her Great Shape Zumbie for now) was probably half that in years. Imagine being a creaky old person attending a class led by a young bubbly teenager. And Great Shape Zumbie's face never seemed to stop making what I can only describe as "Expressions of Ecstasy!" (An Expression of Ecstasy! is the opposite of what my family calls my "Lawyer Face," which is an intense, not-happy serious look, tinged with disdain.)
Every time I looked at the instructor, she was beaming a different Expression of Ecstasy -- so many smiles, winks, so much open-mouth astonishment, so many sexy looks! Great Shape Zumbie moved like a neon Betty Boop!
Every time I looked at myself in the mirror, however, I saw only Lawyer Face staring back at me. And surprise, surprise, Lawyer Face was not so sexy!
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| Lawyer Face Is Not Amused |
Great Shape Zumbie's expressions so resembled those of a Japanese anime character that by the end of class, I was convinced that maybe we had just been taught Zumba by an overachieving stripper. "Taught," of course, is a strong word. We mostly followed her bouncing around. She did briefly go over of some of the moves, but mostly it was her !fun! sexy self bouncing around and us dragging about our lackluster bodies, trying to go through the motions. I watched the minute hand go around the clock with great interest. At some point during the class, the instructor grabbed the largest lady in class by the waist and forced us all into a mandatory conga line.
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| My Time on the Chain Gang |
Afterwards, I went home and ate a really really big lunch of ox tail stew to make myself feel better.
And so for many months during which my six remaining punches went unused and finally expired. I thought that was it for me and zumba. As far as I was concerned, Zumba was a lot like Spanx. The only time I ever tried on a pair of Spanx, I remember experiencing only three things: Discomfort, the Deprivation of Oxygen, and Desperation.
For a moment in that dressing room, my light-headed self had an epiphany -- "Maybe I should actually try a legitimate way of losing weight so I can avoid wearing Spanx?"
Like the Spanx, zumba also seemed like another complicated way to lose the war against weight gain. Clearly I did not have the bubbly personality necessary to "shake it." (Or so I thought.)
Because eventually, I did in fact find myself in another zumba class. It was a totally different place, a totally different instructor, and I decided to give zumba another chance. This gym decided to turn down the lights a bit, which helped tone down the sometimes unbearable boldness that is the zumba. And I found that after making note of the nearest exit (in case another conga line should form itself), I was able to relax. To my surprise, this class was actually a very decent workout.
When I looked in the mirror, I noted that Lawyer Face seemed to be smiling back.
So something really weird happened in the middle of that class. I got happy. I got funky. I got happy that I was so funky! Soon I was smiling like a buffoon, and hey, where did that little extra pep in my grapevine come from?
Then I accidentally kicked a load-bearing pole in the studio.
And so, like the sun breaking through clouds, the moment of neurochemical bliss and spiritual clarity passed as quickly as it came. Because then I got tired. I got funky but in that kind of bad, smelly, why-didn't-you-take-the-garbage-out-earlier kind of way. I was moving like a buffoon.
And then Lawyer Face whispered - in case I had forgotten - "You hate the grapevine."
And then Lawyer Face whispered - in case I had forgotten - "You hate the grapevine."
I remembered having nothing but tremendous respect and adoration for our zumba instructor that day. Her radiant smile, muscled body, and positive attitude could have gotten us through any earth-shattering apocalypse. For a moment, I felt like I could do anything, too.
I've probably still only taken a handful of zumba classes, but I know that they are not all created equal. Each instructor is different. Sometimes there is a conga line, and sometimes there is not. And even though I now go in with eyes wide shut, for all the intel I already have from previous classes, what I end up doing in zumba still manages to surprise me from time to time.
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| Surprised To Be Spanking an Invisible Butt as Exercise |
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| Great Shape Zumble: This Is The Best I Can Do |
While I may not be perfectly suited to zumba, in the meantime, I sure as hell can zumble. In the immortal words of Olivia Newton-John:
Let's get physical - isical, I want to get physical, let's get into physical, lemme hear your body talk!
Everyone can zumble! See ya at the next class!
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