Monday, March 12, 2012

The class is all brown and all ladies except for the one old black man who is tall and has grey hair and looks like maybe he doesn’t know he is in a Zumba class.  He has this smile-stare that does not blink.  He wears a grey sweatsuit.  He shuffles his feet. 

I’m pretty sure his girlfriend brings him.  I think she’s the older lady that wears a white headband, and black tights under white Dolphin type shorts, 80’s style.  By the looks of her, she might’ve been my age back in the 80’s.  I hope when I am a senior citizen I am not doing Zumba.  I hope I am eating ice cream in my wheelchair being pushed around by one of my hot male servants named Clive.  (I will name them all Clive because it will be easier with my dementia.  I will have hot male servants because of how rich I will be one day because all of my best selling books will be optioned into movies.  The Clives will dust and rotate my Oscars.)

A new session has started so all the moves I suffered to learn and master are no longer.  Now I have to figure out new moves.  New songs.  The class is more crowded now.  Brown and black ladies.   And me.

We wear tights and sweatpants.

I like to make up names for some of the routines and for some of the moves.  In the last session there was this African sounding song where it had a lot of “praising the sun god” moves.  Or at least, that’s what I called the moves to the people that live in my head.  A lot of sweeping arm motions in the direction of the sun.  The African singers or chanters seemed like they were singing of how we should worship the day or worship the sun.  I am only assuming this.  I don’t speak a lick of African.   I just made this all up in my head whenever that song came on.

This new session has one song that I am finding myself calling, “The Private Parts  Song.”  The words are not in English.  Spanish maybe.  There is a sequence of moves where we 1) Put our hands on our asses. 2) move our hands in front of our vaginas  3) move our hands in front of our boobs.  During each of these moves we shake and move our hips.  In my head I'm counting, Ass....vagina....boobs...ass...vagina...boobs.  The Private Parts Song.

There’s another dance where we do a mock striptease.  A room full of ladies pretending to take off their shirts, wave them above their heads and throw them off to the side.  A room full of ladies, shimmying off their invisible panties, stepping out of them and kicking them away with one foot.  We touch ourselves seductively during this mock striptease.   I am laughing inside my head.  I do these moves with enthusiasm.  I look completely stupid and not at all sexy and I am so fine with that.  Me and 30 ladies mock naked and sweaty.

Like I said, it’s a brand new session.  These are the two songs that have moves that stick out to me right now.  Maybe in a week I can report back with any new move descriptions that have me laughing inside my head as I struggle like a fool to accomplish them.  Me, all my brown ladies and the black grandpa, shuffling his feet and smiling.  

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