So, here's the deal. I am in a lot of pain. A. Lot. Of. Pain. Got it? Great. You see, I started working out with Real Results this week and those jerks (I'm totally kidding - they are super nice!) are doing a complete overhaul on my diet and exercise. It's crazy and it's exciting and, quite honestly, it's hell. I had to text my bad ass trainer today and ask her, "Is it normal that I've hit the angry, cranky, exhausted phase?" Turns out..., it is. Oh, and - supposedly - things will get a lot better in the next couple of weeks. This post, however, isn't really about that. What is it about? Well, I'm glad you asked...
This post is about what may have either been the best or most demoralizing hour of my life. Yep, my first hour of Zumba. Have you guys tried this crazy class? I hadn't until Monday and, truth be told, I was nervous. I have never been the most coordinated gal. In fact, I'm almost always the least coordinated gal and, no, I am not exaggerating. You know the person who was chosen last for the team in elementary school over and over? You got it, that was me.
So, on Monday I walked into class and nervously started shakin' my thang. Honestly, it was pretty embarrassing because initially I couldn't get the steps down to save my life. However, I was keeping up more than the woman next to me and, for some very screwed up reason, this made me feel good. (Um, did I mention that said woman was at least 75?) Luckily, the instructor kept taking pity on me and giving me a thumbs up. It was pretty funny. Oh, and while we're on the topic of the instructor... He looked like Charles Barkley, but danced like JLo. I'm still trying to figure that one out. That and if he was perhaps on some type of stimulant. Just watching him was exhausting.
Overall, it was kind of fun to basically have an hour at the club in the middle of my Monday at the gym. While I wasn't necessarily prepared to shake my hips while trying to express that "the roof was on fire," it was an experience. At the very least, I've never danced like that before without a very strong cocktail and that's got to count for something.