A few months ago, Andy got us memberships to the 24 Hour Fitness a few miles from our house. I was excited to go to a gym, because even though I've found ways to work out just about every day for the past seven years, my workout DVDs were really starting to get old. Now that I have a few hours a week alone, I can actually take advantage of going to the gym. Sometimes I wake up early and go before everyone else wakes up. Either way, it's nice to add something different to my regime. I was getting really sick of the Bob's Biggest Loser Boot Camp, and I wasn't looking forward to my 10th round of P90X. The other awesome thing about the gym is that they offer classes like spinning, Nike Fit Club and Zumba. A few weeks ago a took my first Zumba class and it was WAY harder than I expected.
Now let me clarify. When I say harder, I don't mean in the too tough of a work out way, although it is a kick ass fun workout. No I mean in a- I so can not dance kind of way. For those of you who don't know what Zumba is, it's a Colombian dance fitness program. That was the problem, the "dance" part. I've taken the class from three different instructors and while they all have their own style, the basics remain the same, move your body and shake your booty. A lot. The problem is, I am the whitest of the white girls when it comes to dancing. I've always known this. In fact Andy and I took dance classes together years ago and he would get so frustrated with me because most of the time I couldn't move the right way, but I thought I could at least move a bit. Then I took this class and realized I can't.
The truth is, there are all kinds of people in the class. Woman and MEN in their 60s who get it less than I do, and girls in their 20s who could teach the class themselves. Therefore, I didn't feel completely incompetent because I'm somewhere in the middle. Plus I know my mom has taken this class at her gym in Florida and she's a whiter white girl than I am when it comes to dancing. Sorry, mom! I learned from the best. HOWEVER! I started to gain a little dance confidence the more classes I took. It would-and still does-take me a minute to get a move when they change it up during a song, but I'm getting better at picking them up more quickly. There are mirrors all over the class and I catch glimpses of myself from time to time. Last time I took a class I caught myself during a move and thought-
"I CAN move my body better! This class is sorta teaching me to dance!"
So, I've been feeling pretty confident about my moves and my booty shaking and have been practicing them around the house when the mood strikes. I will salsa through the kitchen, and mambo to the living room. I and anxiously anticipating the next party my neighbors have where sometimes impromptu Colombian type dancing breaks out. I won't look like such an idiot next time! My youngest daughter would not agree.
Friday night I took the girls out to dinner at a cafe and bakery near our house called Porto's. It a Cuban bakery and the music they play tends to have a Latin flair. After our meal the girls had to use the bathroom. Georgia and I were together in a handicap stall. She was on the toilet, while I stood by and waited for her to finish. I heard the music piping through the speakers and since there was space in the big stall I decided to try out my new moves. I started dancing around then Georgia looked at me and said,
"It'sth good dat nobody can sthee you in hea."
I continued my dancing, feigned being hurt and said, "Why? You don't think Mommy is a good dancer?"
Realizing she might hurt my feelings and not wanting to, she looked at me with a touch of pity and said, "No! It'sth just good dat nobody can sthee you."
Huh. Guess I'm not ready for Dancing With The Stars: Mommyblogger Edition.
Now let me clarify. When I say harder, I don't mean in the too tough of a work out way, although it is a kick ass fun workout. No I mean in a- I so can not dance kind of way. For those of you who don't know what Zumba is, it's a Colombian dance fitness program. That was the problem, the "dance" part. I've taken the class from three different instructors and while they all have their own style, the basics remain the same, move your body and shake your booty. A lot. The problem is, I am the whitest of the white girls when it comes to dancing. I've always known this. In fact Andy and I took dance classes together years ago and he would get so frustrated with me because most of the time I couldn't move the right way, but I thought I could at least move a bit. Then I took this class and realized I can't.
The truth is, there are all kinds of people in the class. Woman and MEN in their 60s who get it less than I do, and girls in their 20s who could teach the class themselves. Therefore, I didn't feel completely incompetent because I'm somewhere in the middle. Plus I know my mom has taken this class at her gym in Florida and she's a whiter white girl than I am when it comes to dancing. Sorry, mom! I learned from the best. HOWEVER! I started to gain a little dance confidence the more classes I took. It would-and still does-take me a minute to get a move when they change it up during a song, but I'm getting better at picking them up more quickly. There are mirrors all over the class and I catch glimpses of myself from time to time. Last time I took a class I caught myself during a move and thought-
"I CAN move my body better! This class is sorta teaching me to dance!"
So, I've been feeling pretty confident about my moves and my booty shaking and have been practicing them around the house when the mood strikes. I will salsa through the kitchen, and mambo to the living room. I and anxiously anticipating the next party my neighbors have where sometimes impromptu Colombian type dancing breaks out. I won't look like such an idiot next time! My youngest daughter would not agree.
Friday night I took the girls out to dinner at a cafe and bakery near our house called Porto's. It a Cuban bakery and the music they play tends to have a Latin flair. After our meal the girls had to use the bathroom. Georgia and I were together in a handicap stall. She was on the toilet, while I stood by and waited for her to finish. I heard the music piping through the speakers and since there was space in the big stall I decided to try out my new moves. I started dancing around then Georgia looked at me and said,
"It'sth good dat nobody can sthee you in hea."
I continued my dancing, feigned being hurt and said, "Why? You don't think Mommy is a good dancer?"
Realizing she might hurt my feelings and not wanting to, she looked at me with a touch of pity and said, "No! It'sth just good dat nobody can sthee you."
Huh. Guess I'm not ready for Dancing With The Stars: Mommyblogger Edition.
Sweet fancy moses!
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