Friday, April 25, 2014

Zoom Bye Aaaaaye Mother Fuckers!!!

There are those who are rhythm-less and then there are the most rhythm-less of the rhythm-less.  When we signed up for Zumba classes I sadly discovered my friends and I belong to the latter group. This is no shit...we suck...big time.

We take up the back row, my Far Side Friends and I.  The Far Sidians...me, Scari, O.F., and Yvettte.  And what a graceless lot we are.  All trying in vain to follow the instructor as she Zumba's her way through the routines.

Who knew the most flexible things on our bodies would be our necks which, contrary to all laws of nature, rotate in true Exorcist fashion so that no matter which way our bodies are going our heads are facing the instructor...to see if we're doing it right...which, more often than not...we aren't.  We may not have mottled green skin and we aren't projectile vomiting pea soup...yet, but I think Linda Blair would be totally impressed at our swiveling neck moves.  For a while I thought I was the only one doing this but when I looked around, all my Far Side friends were doing it too!  I took a ridiculous amount of comfort in that fact.  Still, the whole time I'm secretly praying there aren't hidden video cameras somewhere recording potential YouTube clips of us in all our graceless splendor.

There's a teenage girl who's the daughter of one of the Zoom Bye Aye'ers who sometimes stands against the wall behind us.  I think she's using her phone to take videos of us so she and her friends have something to laugh at.  Do I sound paranoid?????

When we started, our instructor was K, who looks like Frances Fisher.


K is very enthusiastic.  She's trying to motivate us.  I like her because even she screws up sometimes. She gets all big eyed and laughs.  At the end of each class, she gives us a big toothy grin, claps her hands and says "good job" like we we're a bunch of toddlers who'd just put our toys in the toy box for the first time.  I want to turn to Scari and clap my hands and say "good job" in a mocking sort of voice, but I'm afraid K would see me.

The time before last when we showed up, there was a substitute instructor, Andi.
She's much younger than K and is built kinda like a linebacker for the 49'ers.

"Well Zumba doesn't seem to be workin' too well for her" said the always, if by always you mean never, subtle Scari...after which opposite of little Andi kicked our asses. Who knew a chubby white girl could move like that??

When we went to our first class, K the instructor was at the front, facing us.  So I figured when she moved her right foot, we would move our right feet. Au contraire...when she moved her right foot, the whole rest of the class, except me, moved their left foot.  The exact opposite of what the teacher was doing.  It seemed so wrong.  But by doing it backwards, we move in the same direction as the teacher.  You have no idea how hard it is for me to wrap my head around this.

This isn't the only problem I have.  And thankfully, again, I'm not alone here.  See, you're suppose to move your arms at the same time your feet are moving.  The whole point being a nice choreographed routine.  Hah!  If I try to move my arms the way they're supposed to go, my feet never seem to do the right thing...and if I try to do the feet right, the arms move wrong.  I've always thought I was able to multi task but apparently I lose this ability where any type of rhythmic dance movements are involved.  I blame my mother for this...and pretty much every other fault I have.  But this one seems totally real.  She was kicked off the drill team because she couldn't march in time.

Question:  How is it possible for one human being to be so physically inept? Answer:  Physical ineptitude is an inherited trait. I am living proof.

Since we, the Far Sidians, have ensconced ourselves in the back row, it stands to reason that there would be rows in front of us...between us and the instructor.  This presents yet another problem for me in that some of the Zoom Bye Aye'ers are not what would typically be referred to as "thin mints".  Some are able, through sheer body mass, to completely block any view of our instructor.  Not a problem if you know what the routines are, but if you're like me and the other Far Sidians, trying to learn, this creates something of a problem.  The one blocking my view is new too and doesn't know the routines.  She's fumbling and bumbling just like the back row.  The one next to her though, she knows all the routines so I try to follow her. The key word here is try.  No matter how much I try, I still look like a fucking geek.

Everybody, except for me, Scari, and one other Far Side wannabe from the middle row, wear fashionable exercise clothes. I'm sure the wannabe dreams of the back row where the pressure is off but none of us are budging.  We sure as hell don't want to be in the middle row where people can see us from behind.

I thought about getting fashionable workout clothes but I'm too self conscious about my lumpiness to put on skin tight attire.  I stick to baggy sweats.  Plus they hide the giant orthopedic knee brace I wear to keep my left knee from popping out of place. I didn't know I had a bum knee until the first class when I almost fell half a dozen times when it gave out.

Scari & I, again, are the only ones without the fashionable Zumba enhancing weight belt.

OF says they hide the lumpiness...I don't have the heart to pop her bubble.  They're supposed to jingle or jangle when you move your hips.  We also have rubber wrist bands with bells attached that K, the instructor, gave us at our first class.  I wear mine when I remember because I don't want to offend her.  Mine is usually silent though, because of my inability to move my arms if I'm trying to get the feet to move...sometimes I shake it just to show I can make noise too.  Usually when I'm wiping my face or pulling underwear out of my butt.

K is going to start a Pi-Yo-Tone class soon.  Some kind of Pilates/Yoga thing.  We all want to go when she does it.  Odd for me, since I actually own a Pilates machine that I bought off QVC.  It sat in my living room holding cat and dog toys until I finally hauled it over to OF's weight room.  OF has a great, albeit unused, weight room...courtesy of her ex (he whose name shall never be mentioned). Her friend, Blondie, used to use the weight room all the time.  She was an exercise fiend. Since she moved away though, it's kinda like the land of lost toys...only for exercise equipment.

I totally get why OF doesn't use her exercise equipment.  It's why I didn't use the Pilates machine. When you see it, it seems like such an easy thing.  You think, hey even I could do this.  But once the butt hits the couch, it's kinda hard to tear yourself away from Justified, or Game of Thrones, or The Real Housewives, or Hoarders, or Duck Dynasty, or Flipping Out...geeeeez...I watch too much fucking TV.  Yep, it's better to leave the house where the exercise gig can have my undivided attention...even if it can't get the required rhythmic movements.  Thanks for the inheritance Mom.

It's the Stoopidist Thing...