Monday: First session at Zumba.
My pretty sister-in-law has a cute little gym together with her husband, my other to sisters-in-law are employed there. Amongst other real great fitness programs (Belly-off-club, Zero-to-Hero etc) they offer Zumba.
Always wanted to do it, I love LISTENING to latin music and visiting in Central American countries … haha. That says nothing about my post baby, married-to-an-Afrikaaner, office-bum state of fitness.
Having always been awkward when it comes to dance and body coordination, I really felt I wanted to brave this challenge.
I mean, can’t be that bad, dancing in a group of more or less fit ladies and the occasional lad?
After the first 10 min I actually felt: This is awesome! Great beats and a super friendly, all hyped up instructor and we all kinda turning around in circles, booty shaking.
But then it got a bit harder and by the time I had figured out which foot to move where to, the songs were always over. And on top of that I finally discovered there were mirrors in front and to the left (yes, I had actually been way too busy staring at my sis’s bum and counting my feet). One glance at the fat, ungraceful blob trying to hop about in a shapeless Shirt and short stumpy legs almost gave me a fit of shame … I just wanted to run.
But there was no escaping. On top of that, my sis’s husband who’s kinda 20 years older than us began watching and I know how critical he is of us “pastors” … Admittedly, I felt very self-conscious about the moves, but to throw the towel now would really look stupid. So I gave it my best hip swing and just prayed, Lord, make me overcome this fear of people, pleaaaaase!
At home I locked myself up in the bathroom for a while. If it wasnt for my friend D., who was my lift to gym and asked me to be her gymming partner, I would have never returned. But now wednesday was around the corner….
So on Tuesday I tried to lex and hop about in my bedroom much to the delight of my little baby son Steven who is already a much more confident dancer than I’ll ever be.
Wednesday: Surprise, surprise. Not my pretty sister in law but this smily faced guy with a ridiculous handkerchief stuck in his pants to fly right over his bum like a lop-sided tail, pink T-shirt and all.
I feel like I am in a movie … lots of young pretty and FIT girls around, and a granny who stands right at the stage where the pink guy welcomes all of us. Suddenly he starts jumping forward, his hips going first, it really looks bizarre … can’t help giggling when all of us try copying this move. Well, I neither got my chest nor my behinds to shake in the rhythm of the music, and found it utterly hopeless to copy the steps of Mr. handkerchief.
Were those dancing queens cackling over me or the granny? Suddenly I felt so lost, hoping for some Personal Trainer to emerge from somewhere, helping me to face all my issues, make peace with myself and become this supple, graceful dancer that was always hiding under layers and layers of …. oh my, dont get emotional, try to follow the steps…
no, I’ll definitely quit!
Thursday I you-tubed Zumba and started to slow-mo copy the moves. Made me feel a whole lot better. I am too brainy for my own good. Growing up in a puritan home didn’t help either, when a very cute guy asked me out for ballroom dancing class I pretended I got the flu. The flu! Goodness. Did the ballroom dance thingy later at university, didn’t like walzing, LOVED Samba and Rumba, but the guy I was with, alas, was just not inspiring at all.
Friday: Again another instructor, this time the oldest sis. Well, here I go, with my newly found online-rehearsed confidence … Tsamina mina, eh eh Waka waka, eh eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa This time for Africa …
Guess I’ll join the Zumba after all. Thanks D. Thanks Youtube.