The Frenzied Dance

I attempted to bring out my inner Latina tonight. Zumba aerobics class at the gym Jonathan and I are trying out this week. Evidently, there was no illegal crossing into this white girl, 'cuz the Latina NEVER showed up! (I guess being born in California doesn't actually infuse you with Latin rhythm.) There were about 25 people in the class, some obviously had their little salsa dancers with them. I was encouraged by the fact that there were a few, however, that had not only forgotten their dancer, but never met it.

We were "encouraged" by the Tasmanian Devil - I mean, Lynette - who never broke a sweat, whooped it up, and bounced all over the stage, smiling the whole time. She was shifting from one move to another, and just about the time I caught on, she was already three steps into the next sequence. "Come on, really get into it!!" Look lady, you can get my feet, or you can get my arms, but you can't get both. Taz... Lynette - wasn't very tall, but I'm pretty sure she could benchpress me, so I didn't dare walk out, for fear she'd track me down, bouncing like a Tigger the whole way.

I moved. A lot. And sweat. A lot. I probably won't be moving tomorrow. My favorite steps were the ones where we were spinning around - because it created a cooling wind. Fortunately, I managed to not fall over my own feet - or the next person's - but I can't say that my feet will ever be the same after this particular round of blisters. And 32 degrees? That feels REALLY good when you're done. After experiencing Zumba - and Lynette - I'm pretty sure that I'll be finally be able to do what my dietician has been telling me to do - drink more water, get more sleep... zzzzzz....