Zumba for One
I’ve been in a workout rut lately, so today I thought I'd try something different. I scrolled through my iTunes to find all the songs I’ve heard in Zumba and compiled them into a playlist (aptly titled “Zumba;” creativity is not my strong suit). Then I hit play on that bad boy and went to work. How much fun does that sound? If you answered “that sounds like a terrible idea,” you’d be correct.
I learned a few things about myself in my solo Zumba sesh. Mainly, that the image I have in my head of myself dancing it out is much better than the one I see in the mirror. I envisioned myself merengue-ing and salsa-ing like a profesh out there. My hips didn’t get the memo.
Second, I’m terrible at estimating space. I thought the 2x2 area I gave myself would be plenty of room to sweat it out. If I’d known I would bang into the dresser and footboard so much, I would have babyproofed the shit out of those corners.
Thirdly, I’m more of a people person than I’d like to admit. I wouldn’t describe myself as a people person (unless I was in a job interview). It’s not that I don’t like other people. It’s more that I can’t stand them. I wish I was smart enough to be 100% self-sufficient. I’m not talking about bill paying, tire changing, Destiny’s Child independent women status. I’m talking about literally sustaining myself w/out any other human interaction. But then I’d have to learn which plants are poisonous and probably end up dying like ol’ Foxface.
Choreographing moves by yourself? Not quite the fun I was imagining. I got a decent workout, which was the whole point, but I’m not chomping at the bit to do it again. Guess there’s something to be said for those group classes. Or alcohol. When I have a beer in my hand, anything is fun. Next time I’ll just grab a cold one before pressing play.