This is what it had come to.
“Bend over slowly and with both arms, grab the inside of your thighs!” Our instructor called out through her microphone.
I was trying to follow instructions but I was panting, well actually gasping for air. Every breath made my rib cage hurt and my abs tighten up. And yes I do have abs, somewhere…under this…..stuff.
“Stand up straight and raise your arms to the sky and inhale deeply as you make a circular motion!”The instructor said this with a toothy smile that would make a high school cheerleader jealous.
I slowly released my grip on the inside of my legs and tried to come to a straight, standing position. I did this slowly, and gingerly. First of all the pain was excruciating and I was sweating gravy in my eyes. The hardest part of this cool down exercise was to keeping from falling on my face from laughing.
“Oh, love to love you baby! Oh, pant pant, heavy sigh, heavy sigh, yeah!” I could not believe this was coming from the speakers over my head. Our instructor had issues with her MP3 player so someone had volunteered their Ipod and this was the song that came up first.
“Love me, oh yeah, love me!” Donna Summer sounded a little aroused as she sung, “Love to Love You Baby.”
I guess no one had listened to this song before, it was beyond “R” rated. As eighty women and two men, including myself did our cool down stretch it seemed hardly appropriate. The sound of Donna Summer’s x-rated song and people bent over touching their toes and other stretching positions was just too much.
I wanted to burst out laughing so bad! As I opened my sweat soaked eye, yes just one, I caught my wife giving me her “mommy” look. It told me, “keep your mouth shut, and don’t embarrass me,… again.” I gave her a slight smile and she scrunched her eyebrows at me as she continued to stretch. My wife and I don’t have kids but over the length of our marriage she has had to master the “look” to keep me in check.
I looked over at the sea of rear ends bobbing up and down up as Donna Summer groaned and moaned and thought to myself, “I have finally cashed in my man card.” I bit my lip and did my best to continue our cool down stretch.
“Ladies, do not report me to management, this was an innocent accident!” Our instructor called out as she had us raise our rear ends skyward again.
It had all started out so innocently. My wife had been invited to a Zumba class along with other girlfriends. They would each bring their husbands and it would all work out nicely. Well, the other couples bailed and I ended up being only one of three men in a class of about eighty women. Move forward about five months and minus fifteen pounds and here we are.
I am not complaining at all. I’ve caught hell from my male friends about the sight of me dancing around in a “girl” class. After I tell them of my weight loss and what the class consists of they all turn down my invitation. Thanks goodness! I would have to shred my man card if they saw me dancing to salsa or hip hop music.
I have gotten to enjoy the class, mostly because of the interaction with the ladies. Get a room of eighty women and three men and the comedy goes on forever! I’ve gotten to the point where I have handed out a few names to some girls and even the men. Let me share a few.
We have one lady that reminds me of a ballerina because of the way she is built. I’m guessing about five foot, five inches and maybe 105 pounds. I call her the Wing Nut. No matter what song is playing she finds a way to spin around with arms going in every direction and she doesn’t stop until she hits another person or the wall. Picture a top spinning around and round, now add arms and legs to it, there you go, Wing Nut.
I have made it a point to ignore her. She comes in late every class and if she sees any space she will jump in and crowd people out. Since I probably scare a lot of the ladies, they tend to give me a lot of space and that works out perfect for the Wing Nut. Out of all the people in the class, she knows I will at least have a few feet of dancing room around me. I now accept the fact that she will slam into me a few times each day and have let physics handle the rest. I weigh around…, much more than the Wing Nut so I just let her slam into me, it really doesn’t hurt. She’ll only bounce off anyways. I wonder if she drives the same way?
By me getting a lot space around me, it seems to draw in the latecomers and it had me irritated for a while, not any more, it only adds to the fun. I really think I scare some of the ladies so they give me plenty of room, I’m not sure why, anyways another girl, I say that because she is a teeny bopper, that always comes in late is the Purple Bouncing Bunny.
If the Wing Nut is not next to me it will surely be this chick. She always wears purple and reminds me of a rabbit. I did not know that in Latin dancing there is a step where you bounce straight up and down. I haven’t seen our instructor do it so I am a little confused. So why is Miss Purple Bunny doing it?
Much like the Wing Nut she violates personal space etiquette and will bounce right into if you are not quick enough to dodge her. I found out that she is also an instructor at another health club. I could see that. I bet she was also a cheerleader in her past life, last year. The part about the Purple Bunny that really irritates me and other people, and I really mean irritating is her hair, literally, did I mention irritating? It is very long, down to the middle of her back and she wears it in two pig tails. She will bounce and spin and that causes a whipping action in her hair, and I’m pretty sure someone is going to lose an eye.
Purple Bunny’s hair is very curly so the pony tails expand as they leave the rubber bands that hold them in place. I have decided that the next time I get a hair whip. I’m going to follow up with a leg whip. If you are questioning what a leg whip is, let me tell you.
The leg whip is an illegal move in any class of football. That includes Pop Warner, Pee Wee, junior high and so forth. To perform the illegal move you sweep your foot under your opponents and trip them. Now once I do that I will start running for the door before she gets up and catches me. I am very sure I will not be able to out run her. My wife will be on her own from that point.
As I mentioned earlier, our class fills up very quickly, space is at a premium. Women start coming in and “marking” their territory by placing a towel or water bottle on the floor. Well, we have ladies that have stepped it up a notch. I was totally unaware that you could order a tiny little traffic cone only six inches high that warns others to stay away. I walked in early to class and was transfixed by this little orange marker. I have a friend that has a husband in law enforcement. She has volunteered to get me a roll of crime scene tape. I cannot wait to mark my spot using that, I’ll show these girls how to play rough. As bent over to pick up the cone, I get a smack on the arm.
My wife tells me not touch it, the owner may be close by. She was right, the lady that had marked her spot was one of the assistant instructors that had the ability to garner front row status. Which made me wonder, do you really need a traffic cone to secure a spot on the front row? You have to be top notch to get to her level. The reason is, when you can’t see the instructor you can watch the assistants and follow along. That leads me to Farrah, you know, from the original Charlie’s Angel’s. Yes my age is starting to show. I am very sure this is not her real name.
I am need to watch the assistants so I can follow along. They are easy to spot before class. They will be the “extreme” fit gals or the guys that have spent thousands of dollars at zumba.com. They will have all the gear from the website and Zumba branded clothes. One day I was stretching in my “marked” spot and noticed what appeared to be a new assistant. My wife grinned at me and told me to watch this lady.
Farrah, I say that because she had her hair made up the same way. Anyway, at five foot even that is a lot of hair, but the frosty blue eye shadow balanced it all out. She had on all the gear down to the belt thing with all the noise makers on it. I have no idea what they are called, my wife said I could not have one or matching Zumba outfits so, let’s move on. Our instructor started up and I almost fell over laughing.
Picture the worst ”Dancing With the Stars” male contestant, now add more difficulty, tada! Farrah! I think even the assistants were looking at her in disbelief. I swear one of them motioned for me to come up to the front and change spots with her. Nah, just being serious! Okay really, not going to happen. My wife turned around and winked at me. She knew by the look on my face I had spotted the imposter.
So after cooling down and soaking up the gravy with my towel I slowly try to stand up straight. I hear a popping sound in my pivot leg and know I will need an extra Aleve. This is what it has come to, my mid life crisis at a Zumba class. I guess there are worse addictions I could have.
I smile and slowly move to the door. My wife is somewhere talking to her girlfriends so I decide to stand still for a moment and drink some water. As I raise my water bottle I hear a screeching sound from behind.
“My, you have lost a lot weight sir, it must be the Zumba!” Purple Bouncing Bunny says as she flashes a toothy smile while holding what seems to be a cheerleader pose. You all have seen it, hands on the hips and one leg bent back at the knee.
She whips around to walk away, probably thinking she has done her good deed for the day. As I dodge her hair I start spinning my towel quickly and prepare to snap her perky little……
”Albert!” My wife calls out to me. Busted!
My wife has come to my rescue once again. I would surely lose more than my man card if Purple Bouncing Bunny beat me up after Zumba class.
