Caution: Vodka Required

Are you an out of work actor? Did you almost make it as a dancer then
fail miserably? Did you not get enough of the club this weekend? Do
you dream of one day understanding how to do an accelerated strip tease?

Well then, friend, Zumba is for you.

Last Wednesday I had my first Zumba experience. I started my workout with N at kickboxing — a class that gave me a healthy ka-pow of reality. As it happens, I am less coordinated than I have always thought and jab-punch-cross-turn-knee’d myself into confusion for an entire hour. I sweated. I learned combo moves, just like old school Street Fighter. I even threw off the overly-know-it-all next to me’s rhythm, sending her into a spiral of confusion. Overall, give me a few more practice rounds, and I will be upper-cut/round-house kick/jump/arm/hobbling with the best of them in kickboxing.

But Zumba. Oooooh Zumba…how you tortured me. N describes our
instructor as ‘great.’ Me on the other hand? Well, you have all heard
my feelings on my devil hot yogi, so I am sure you are thinking I am
going to take this that direction. WRONG. Nay, she was not the devil.
She even forewarned us that her style had hip-hop roots and sometimes
she didn’t talk so really ‘try to follow along.’

Background for you: I have trouble with the Cha-Cha-Slide.
Specifically the Cha-Cha part. This does not bode well during a Zumba
class. I have included the link for those of you unfamiliar with <a href="
“>Casper’s Cha-Cha-Slide.

During my experience, I believe said instructor was trying to say
“left foot” but her annunciation was muffled by the PARTY that was
going on around her…however “sexy time” was more than
understandable, and I learned where everyone goes to drop it like its
hot while sober.

I’m not entirely sure that it’s healthy to consider a vodka-tonic pre-workout, however in this case it might be necessary. I always thought I was not only a competent dancer, but also a confident one. Never failing to flock to the dance floor in uncomfortable shoes, could it be that my Brooks were holding me back? Constricting my already wobbling ankles from the ability to roll, twist and slip at their will? Or maybe my sports bra was keeping the girls from moving freely? Maybe it was that the workout room provided space to move/slide/sexy time around without using another body as a bumper guard.

Because, really? There is no way I have vodka goggles about my dancing ability. It’s just not possible.

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