zumba starts with zzzzz

oh, y'all....(wailing & wringing of hands)....zumba.  i mean, really?  who invented this?  satan?  i am directionally challenged, and have the vertigo thing still going on, and never could dance to save my life, so let's mash all the things i do worst together, and throw me into a hot room, yell "go," and see what happens.  it was blasphemy.  sweaty, feel-the-burn, what-the-hell, i will die blasphemy.  but the music was good.  i hung in there the entire hour, only because i couldn't figure out how a person's butt could be so teeny and still support a torso - i mean, the teacher was buff, and could obviously dance like the stars.  and here i was in the back row with the other clods.  someone suggested a BEGINNER zumba class ("spaz zumba") held at the sister club across town.  the next night.  which was last night.  ahhh.  beginner zumba.  sounded right up my alley and not at all fearsome.  i show up.  the teacher shows up.  she is a big girl.  i am happy. the rest of the class tromps in.  the music starts and whoa nelly - what the hell?  i cannot for the life of me figure out the difference between the two classes, other than the teacher slaps her thigh when we're about to change moves, and points in the direction we SHOULD be going.  again, i stay for an hour, but mostly because i'm too dazed to find the exit, and figure i should do something productive while waiting for someone to follow out.  and much like a casino, there are no clocks, so i have no idea when my deliverance will come.  again the music is good.  i fear the last sounds i hear on this mortal earth, however, will be Pitbull and Will.I.Am, which under normal occasions is fine, but not appropriate for your last breath.  this teacher had moves.  i just wanted to lay on the ground trying to suck air and watch.  alas, all things come to an end, and i crawled out the door behind the others.  hey, i got a free t-shirt, though! i suspect it was for the spazziest zumbini.  so this morning's torment was yoga.  i am totally spoiled by Clare, my yoga instructor.  but it's time to spread my wings, broaden my horizons, and try the free yoga class at this gym.  what could be evil about yoga? i say with innocence.  there is a difference in types of yoga...flow yoga, hot yoga, gentle yoga, etc.  the class listings just say "yoga."  (hey Larry -  i got new yoga pants for this class!)  this was not a yoga i knew.  my expectations were this: a mind, body, spiritual experience, while stretching my body and strengthening my core.  what i got: we never not ever stopped.  the music was Led Zepplin Stairway to Heaven and other rockinest stuff.  we never even said Om.  it was exercise-called-yoga...sort of like elementary school fish sandwiches - they aren't really fish, but we'll call it that to keep people happy.  yes yes, i know - i am used to 1 teacher's methods and should be open-minded, but i felt homesick.  exactly homesick.  and now i know i need to go back to Clare.  so after all this torment and chaos and sweat, i set up an appointment for a trainer next week.  oh yes i did.  it's time to figure out all those gruntifying machines.  i'm paying for them, dammit, i'll use them.  and meanwhile, i'm doing laundry every night because the sweat smell is teenager-ish.  tomorrow is a work day, though...necklaces to make!! proposals to write!! a workshop to put the finishing touches on!! it'll all be cool, you'll see.  tonight, a luxury bubble bath.  for Diva, actually.  oh, and thank you for asking - she is doing fantastic! 99.99% better.
time to shower - again - and make dinner (well, Wegmans made it for me already, but i have to heat it up...eggplant roulettes and broiled vegetables).  (and a cupcake, yes, for godssake.  only 2 hours on the treadmill to get rid of it).