Adventures of a Reluctant Cheer Mom…Wendy Does Zumba…

Note: This is a continuation of a series I started last year during cheer competition season.  Read the first two installments here and here.

Last night, I was dragged  went to a Zumba fundraiser for Hope’s cheerleading team at her school.  Everyone I know who’s tried Zumba raves about it: “It’s so much fun!”  We were told to arrive early, because there’d be a line (there wasn’t).  We paid our five dollars, and got a small piece of paper to write our names on to win a free Zumba class.  Hope wasted no time telling me that she wasn’t going to stand beside me.  “I don’t know you,” she declared.  Apparently, my old blue T-shirt and navy yoga pants (slightly wrinkled) weren’t up to her standards (she should be thankful I didn’t opt for shorts – I haven’t shaved my legs in a few months)!  I did drag out my brand new white Dr. Scholl’s (“I’m gellin'”) sneakers for the occasion!  Nobody else had those!

 I used to work out three times a week…those days are long gone.  Let’s just say I’m no “Skinny Minnie”…the only exercise I get now is walking between the computer and the refrigerator, and chewing.  I love to dance, but I make it up as I go along, much to my children’s horror (I tried to learn the tango once…it was a disaster)!  Looking around the room, I was happy not to be the oldest one there (I was 37 when I had Hope)…some of the cheerleaders had brought their grandmas along.  There was even one cheer dad, whose belly hung far over the waist of his shorts…I really hoped he didn’t have a heart attack during the class!

 As the cheer moms and girls milled about, sizing up the competition waiting for the class to start, we were approached by one of the Zumba instructors…she was about my age and carried a clipboard.  Attached to the clipboard, there was a waiver releasing the Zumba people, the event organizers, the cheerleading team, the school, the school board, and God, from any liability should anyone incur an injury.  This should have raised warning bells for me, but I quickly signed the paper with both mine and Hope’s names (I even remembered to give the pen back!).

At this point, I noticed that both Zumba instructors had little streamers attached to their pants at various points…I wondered why, but kept my curiosity to myself.  The woman who had the clipboard also had something around her hips that I’d seen belly dancers wear:

She wore something like this (photo from Henry G Dance Accessories)...

Finally, it was time for the class.  The older instructor gave us a bit of a rundown about Zumba, and stressed that it takes three or four classes to get comfortable doing it (I beg to differ).  The younger instructor, a tall blonde about nineteen, told us to line up…adults on one side, and kids on the other.  I made sure there was lots of space around me.  Then the hell music started.  Remember the eighties, when aerobics were all the rage?  I used to imitate the aerobics instructors, and my kids would laugh themselves silly!  Picture aerobics, with dance music (salsa instead of disco)…that’s what we were trying to do doing.

Just when I’d just about have the routine figured out (usually halfway through the song), it would change!  I refrained from jumping, as I didn’t want to put an eye out damage my bad knees.  I was clapping at the wrong time, going left instead of right, and flailing my arms helplessly.  My hips refused to move the way the young nymph instructor’s did…if a priest had seen the way she was throwing her booty around, he would have performed an exorcism on the spot (when I was relating this to Jim, he regretted his decision to stay home)!  Those streamers on her pants were horizontal!  When she told us to “shimmy,” I didn’t even try! 

Three songs in, I was breathless, and in desperate need of oxygen water.  Filling my water bottle up beforehand would have been an excellent idea (I had about a quarter bottle left from work).  I waited until the end of the fourth song before hauling my butt across the floor getting my water from my purse (which I’d conveniently left in the far corner of the gym).  I downed it in one gulp!

Luckily, I wasn’t the only one having difficulty…several of the other moms were looking a little winded and bewildered (although the seventy-year-old behind me was whooping it up)!  I hoped that most of them were concentrating hard enough on watching the instructors that they wouldn’t notice how badly I was doing!  Hope, however, could see everything from across the room…if looks could kill, I wouldn’t be alive to write this!

The event was scheduled to end at 7:30, but the drill sergeants instructors kept on going.  At 7:40, I dragged Hope out the door…Anna had to be at her school for a dance in 20 minutes!  For once, I was thankful for extracurricular activities!  In the van, Hope told Jim and Anna about how badly I’d embarrassed her.  Kaylee called on my cellphone to confirm that I was still alive. 

I really hope we didn’t win the free class…I know some of you guys think Zumba is “fun”, but I’ll stick to walking and riding my bike!