Zumba-licious!

There’s a new crazy taking the country by a storm… (well it’s not a new craze, but I never have been very quick on the uptake. Facebook? Nope. Skinny jeans? I don’t think so!) Zumba! And last week, I decided to try it, with hilarious consequences. I had heard a lot about it, as most people you talk to seem to have a mother / auntie / gran who indulges, but you rarely hear anyone of my age admitting to do it. But gym-bunny housemate Emma, who will try anything that might mean that the words ‘fun’ and ‘exercise’ can go in the same sentence, has been trying to get me to go with her.

Don’t get me wrong, this girl likes spinning, so I wasn’t convinced that when she said “it’s a right laugh” that I would agree with her. I had visions of an ambulance being called as I suffered a heart attack, and Emma perspiring elegantly while bopping about with no trouble at all.

Actually, I was pleasantly surprised. We got to the school hall that it was being held in, and she said “ooh I’m not sure about this. The other place we do it has really dim lights. Here you can see everything!” and we waited in said gym hall while a strange caretaker who reminded me of Groundskeeper Willy out of The Simpsons, perved on us. There is no pretty way of saying it, that’s what he was doing.

My first giggles started way before the class, when I made the grown up decisions (I know, check me out!) to go to the loo. I felt like the BFG. The loos in an infant school are like something out of a dolls house! It was like trying to wee in an egg cup, and I don’t think Emma could work out why there were giggles coming from my cubicle. I dried my hands on the teeny tiny paper towels and made my way out into the white light of the school hall.

And then the dancing started. And it was really fun! We salsa’ed and zumba’ed and cha cha’ed to our hearts delight.

Let’s put it this way, if I was South American, I would be really embarrassed. Shakira makes it look so easy when she wiggles her hips and winds her body seductively. That’s the vision, isn’t it? Looking like a belly dancer with flawless skin and hips like you’ve been hula hooping all your life?

The reality was a little different. Think red faces and hips like robots that needed oiling. The faster it got, the more disjointed we looked until we resembled belly dancers having fits. I laughed so hard that I tripped over my shoelaces, sending the others into fits of giggles. And it looks so easy! But it’s not. My (little amount of) natural rhythm got the moves and I looked a little more like a pro, until my brain caught up with my hips, and I lost it totally.

Despite looking like I suffered from epilepsy and having no rhythm whatsoever, we will be going back next week. Toot toot!

Have you ever been to an exercise class and felt like a right wally?

If you want to read about other disastrous (and hilarious) exercise classes that the blonde one and I have tried, read these related posts: Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting I Can Haz Inner Peace The One Where We Went To Aqua Aerobics