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Posted on Jan 22, 2014

Zumba Almost Killed Me

I am a curvaceous (see "chubby"), fun-loving Middle School teacher who has ambitious ideas with no will power. Which is why I paid $100 to enroll in a Zumba class at my school. And quit after one session.

by TulipGirl

Community Contributor

I signed up for Zumba at school. About ten teachers are doing it, including some close friends and team members.

I got dressed, left my sassy earrings on and got my groove ready. I'm chatting, I'm sipping my water, I'm getting my game ready and realized I was in the front row. Almost everyone was behind me.

Socrate, our colleague and Zumba instructor, starts with a "warm up." And we start Zumba'ng. He starts moving his hips, which is no problem. (I've got flexible hips.) But then he adds arm movements.

Last year, I tried to take up swimming. I kept swimming into the wall and inhaling chlorine. I was just a damn hot mess. Well, this was kind of like that. Except I had three bras on and was still jiggling.

After the "warm-up," he throws shit down. He is moving and he is grooving. Like serious "Dancing-With-the-Stars" type shit and I'm all,

Seriously? I am huffing and puffing and trying so hard to salsa right along with him. People are god damn looking at my ass, for crikey's sake. And then I remembered food. And how I forgot to eat it that day. FUCK. And then,

So I quietly slip out,

and hide in the bathroom for five minutes, trying to slow my heartbeat down and, literally, not pass out. I calm down, realize how much my muscles ache already (this is about twenty minutes into the class) and immediately plan for tomorrow.

I'm just kidding. (I'm a teacher! I would never!) I go back in and keep on Zumba'ng but with a bit less passion this time. I look at Socrate, who I love, who is a great teacher, who is damn good-looking and think,

The class finally, FINALLY ends. Socrate is so proud of us. I look around and see faces just a red as mine. Others are sweating. Others are clutching their chests - just like me! I feel a little validated. Then I see two of my friends, strutting around with barely a glimmer of perspiration on their foreheads and remembered that one takes, like, seventeen other Zumba classes a week and the other could've been a Fly Girl. Jerks.

I have a love/hate with Zumba now. I love being with my friends and dancing. But I hate sweating. And breathing hard.

I'm sure y'all are like,