I did Zumba tonight.
I felt like a tool most of the time. But you know, a fun tool. A fun, latin-infused, tool.
Apparently I faked it pretty well. The instructor came up to me afterwards and asked “Do you normally go to Kelly’s hip hop class? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, but you obviously know a lot of the moves.”
My inner monologue: “Finally! Years of show choir choreography pay off!”
It was fun enough that I think I’ll do it again. There is another class at the same place on Thursday night.
I am going to need some better workout clothes, though. Eventually, anyway.
All the other zumbists (I think that’s what I’ll call them…. or zumbies? Hmmm…. I’ll have to sleep on it) seemed to be wearing more… how shall I say… supportive clothing. Like, spandex-ish compression clothes.
All 200+ pounds of me was in a tank top, a super worn out sports bra (like, you know how old elastic makes a creaking, crackling sound? yeah) and leggings.
1. This is not a good look for me. Let’s be real.
2. Ya’ll. I didn’t know one body could bounce and flop in so many directions at once. Arm fat flapping into back fat into belly fat into b’donkadonk…. it’s really a testament to the resilience of the human spirit that all those skinny girls got out of there alive.
Get ready, skinny girls. I’ll be back Thursday.