We’ve all had a desire to pursue some other path in life. Mine has always been to be in a musical, but only as an extra who dances just because my singing is cringe worthy. It’s almost like running your fingernails down a chalkboard. It’s bad, but I always thought it would be really neat to be a dancer in a musical. They’re always so elegant and sexy and classy and entertaining AND you can burn some serious calories (dancers always have some of the best bodies). Well, today I quickly found out that any dream I ever had of being an extra on Broadway or the next making of “Footloose” or “Grease”, has been snuffed out.

In my effort to lose 10 more pounds before the summer, I’ve decided to take some classes at the Y. Today offered up Zumba and it was my first official experience in this foray of exercise. At first, I thought how wonderful this would be. I could fulfill that life long dancing dream. How hard could it be? I mean I’ve been dancing my entire life and right now both of my boys seem to really be digging on my Mommy Moves and Grooves, which has me concerned about their eyes. How could they possibly enjoy what they are seeing especially if it’s anything like what I experienced for an hour this morning?!?!?

For those of you living in a hole for the past decade or so, Zumba is a dance exercise that combines mostly Latin dance moves with some low and high impact cardio workouts. There’s a lot of the samba, the shuffle, the hips twisting and shaking, and even a few spins and a cha-cha or two thrown in for good measure. There’s not much of a break between the songs as you jump right in from dance to dance and move to move.

First off, my hips don’t lie, but unlike Shakira, my hips have been telling me for quite so time that I have to rhythm. I suppose I’ve been living in a box for a while because I always thought I gyrated my hips quite well when the beat kicked up, but then again I’m never standing in front of a mirror the entire time either. I literally wanted to slap myself for doing this in public.

Second, I’m a stiff! Not like a Divergent Stiff, but a stiff when it comes to dancing. I lack grace and a lot of it. Picture a taller version of the “Elaine” from Seinfeld, but throw in a couple of trips when I should have been sashaying. I’m a disgrace! I’m worse than Billy Dee Williams on Dancing with the Stars! I can’t believe I ever danced in public (of course at that point I’d had some liquid courage so I was oblivious to how awesome I danced).

I don’t know what was more exhausting, though. Literally trying to keep up with the instructor or mentally trying to figure out how to raise my arms and shuffle my feet at the same time. I’ll do it again, if for no other reason than the facts that it’s a good calorie burner and I’m sure to provide comic relief to the class. On the plus side, I now have yet another way to embarrass my boys in public. Dun Dun Dun!

But it’s pretty safe to say that I will NEVER be a dancer which really saddens me. I’d always kept that in my back pocket. 🙂