Sweating the Dance Moves AN EXPERIMENT WITH ZUMBA
There’s nothing like attending a Zumba class for the first time to make you feel like a real spaz.
This’ll be fun! I thought. I’ll simultaneously dance and do my cardio instead of use boring machines! But despite keeping my eyes glued to the instructor, I had trouble following her. How was I supposed to learn the steps if she was moving at lightning speed? I needed one-on-one instruction. Instead, I was on my own, breathless and floundering like I’d lost all muscle control. I felt completely out of shape. (It seems unfair that my hard- earned modicum of stamina from using the treadmill doesn’t transfer to different exercises. Doesn’t that defy the laws of exercise?) The mirrors covering every inch of wall space didn’t increase my confidence, either, since I saw how out-of-step I was with everyone else. And every few seconds, the instructor barked out commands that didn’t seem descriptive of the moves.
“Grapes vines!” she shouted, and everyone scooted to the left, then did some weird movement with their arms. What that had to do with grape vines, I don’t know. “Wash hair!” I watched her caress the back of her head sexily, then gracefully swirl around. When I tried that, it wasn’t sexy at all. I looked like I was having convulsions. “Shimmy!” I stretched my arms out and tried it. The instructor shimmied with just her shoulders; my entire body vibrated as though I were being electrocuted. After 20 minutes, I grabbed my water bottle, slunk out of class, and hopped onto the treadmill, comforted by the familiar movement. At least here I was free of the mirrors showing me just how much huffing, puffing, and sweating I was doing. Ignorance is bliss. Or at least less humiliating.
I was at the gym. The music drew me to the class like a moth to a porch light — I love music. Although I’m not the most graceful, I have enough rhythm to keep from looking like Elaine on that "Seinfeld" episode. But that’s only when I’m dancing by myself, doing my own thing. It doesn’t apply when I need to follow a partner or copy someone else’s moves. The music was upbeat and fast, but since I’ve worked out at the gym for years, I didn’t think I’d have trouble keeping up. The instructor stood in the front line and seven other sweaty women in rows behind her followed her every move. Obviously, they were regulars in the class, and I was the only first-timer. But I joined the second row seamlessly.
TESTIMONIAL
“The girl who hit me wasn’t even looking at the road. She was looking at her cell phone. I had extensive treatment, and Steven and his staff made sure all of it was paid. He then got the insurance company to offer its full policy. Steven never stopped fighting for me and always communicated with me whenever I needed to speak with him. I told all my family and friends if they ever need a lawyer, call Steven.”
– Christine Zampacorta Belleville, New Jersey
2
WWW.GHLAWNYNJ.COM
Published by The Newsletter Pro • www.TheNewsletterPro.com
Made with FlippingBook - Online magazine maker