B discovered Zumba a few years ago and fell in love with it, and it helped her to drop a significant amount of weight.
I've been trying to find some kind of exercise that I would keep doing, because to be honest, I detest exercise. I hate it. I have always hated it. I hate sweating, I hate being out of breath.
Anyway, we went to this firehouse somewhere in northern Virginia, and we got to it. Now, I've been in many musicals (both school and community), and taken numerous dance classes back before I was As Fat As I Am Now. I can dance. I got rhythm (I got music... I got my man... who could ask for anything more?).
We went in, and I was seriously expecting to see chicks dressed like this:
Thankfully, that was not the case. They were dressed in normal workout clothes and, besides B's husband, it was all women from about 20-50. Fine with me!
The class was.. fine. Having taken dance classes before, it wasn't anything new or revolutionary for me. The music was fun, and I appreciate how easy the moves were. I was able to pick up about 90% of them right off the bat.
The problem I DID have?
Stamina and ability. My body cannot physically go full out on the moves like the instructor and hell, like the skinny girls could. I wish I could have bounced around like a demented blonde kangaroo like the instructor (who was really nice and welcoming and her outfit was ADORABLE*), but alas, my 250 pounds of 30-something can't dance like 19-year-old me was able to.
I made it through the class. I kept moving, even if I couldn't do the moves full out. About 15 minutes in, I felt like I was going to die. Then I got my second wind and did okay. Then came the upper body moves, which made me want to do this to the peppy instructor:
But then I decided to imagine that I was punching my ex in the face, and that was pretty awesome.
Anyway, I went, I got through the class, and I didn't hate it.
Will I go to another Zumba class? Probably. But I'm not OMG DYING to go.
The search for exercise I actually enjoy and WANT to do continues.
*The pants she had on were ADORABLE, though. They were black cargo pants that had this black and white striped section at the top that looked like garters and reminded me of the tights that Amanda Palmer always wears. And some shirt that had a ruffly butt that was so cute when we did booty-shaking moves. MUST FIND THESE. But then I realized that my thighs + horizontal stripes = NO.