Tales From The Zumba Files

So I've done two Zumba classes now. I did not fall into a red, sweaty mess on the floor. (Phew!) I even successfully completed the entire hour class without incident. Oh, but that's not the end of this story, right? Of course not. If I ever have only 5 sentences worth of an opinion on anything, I've probably got broken fingers and laryngitis.

I was a little nervous the first class, but having my fellow newbies helped to ease some of my trepidation. The class was full which helped me hide out in the back where no one could see that I have coordination issues and problems differentiating my right from my left when the instructor is facing me. (I know, it sounds stupid, but she's facing me, so I mirror the wrong side. Did I mention the coordination issues?)

I was okay with these problems though, because I could hide under the excuse of "It's my first Zumba class." (Until my second class. But I was willing to "forget" about the first class and tell everyone it's my first class again if I was really horrible.) There were only two things that bothered me. The first was the music. We are not in a very large space. So the music could have been a few decibels lower. When you leave an hour exercise class and your ears are ringing like you've just been to a rock concert, you know the music is too loud. Believe me, I feel foolish even saying that out loud, because it makes me officially old. I'm now "Turn that down, it's too loud" Mom. And I really feel I'm too young to be that old yet. Then again, I don't want to be that mom in 40 years whose kids keep telling her to "Turn your hearing aid up Ma!"

The second was Zumba guy. He's probably 106 (or 70) and has the tiniest toothpick legs I've ever seen on a man, let alone an ancient one. I don't even know how these things support him. It must be like walking on stilts all day. While it's great for his balance, I'm worried that his teeny tiny ankles won't support him one day and down he'll go. Of course, I'm anti-gory anything, so once I see the blood (just writing blood made me a little queasy) from his popped ankles, I'll probably pass out or throw up. If you've ever seen the movies, you know one person throwing up will start the chain of vomit from everyone until the entire room will be ankle deep. One or two of my co-workers would be standing in the melee, laughing like loons. It would be bedlam.

As if the stilts weren't enough, he likes to yell things out in class. Sometimes it's just a single "Woooooo!" and sometimes he's yelling things along with the song. "Put your hands up! Put your hands up!" (Actually, I might have just solved the mystery of why the music is so loud.) At any rate, when a person with coordination issues is doing their best to keep up with the instructor, Zumba guy can really screw with your concentration. By the end of the second class I was thinking that someone should tell him they weren't open on Mondays starting next week. Unfortunately, I couldn't find anyone willing to do that.

Long story short....well, actually it's too late for that I guess. Long story long, I'll be going back even if the music is too loud (hearing in your 70's is overrated) and Zumba guy is yelling while doing the balancing act on his matchsticks.