If my blog was a newspaper, the headline would read the
following: “Breaking News! This just in: Chubby girl eats entire pizza within a
24-hour time frame!”
Oh, and I’m not talking a personal size, little, sissy, mini
pizza. I’m talking a whopper 8-slicer of a pizza – supreme at that. Yeah,
that’s right. Not my finest moment. I share this because I’m not perfect (by no
means). And I think it’s good to share moments of weakness with moments of
success. Now on to my moment of success…
After a four day break from working out (a one day break
turned into two…and then you know how it goes from there), I jumped back on the
bandwagon. This, in itself is impressive for me because after I skip a few
workouts, it usually turns into a few months of skipping several workouts. I
had to somehow, in my warped mind, make up for the fact that I downed the
entirety of a man-size pizza. (I guess that’s what happens when you ssshh those
pizza cravings for several weeks.)
Okay, back to the success story.
In an effort to spruce up my workouts, or lack of workouts, I decided I would attempt
another Zumba workout experience. You probably already know what Zumba is, but
in case you have actually been sleeping during the wee hours in which nothing
but infomercials are on, I’ll inform you. Zumba is a dance workout craze where even the most uncoordinated of individuals can’t resist
trying it. I like to think of it as the Jazzercise of our decade. If each
decade has a fitness craze stamped to its rear end, this decade’s end would be
wearing some Zumba pants and ending it with a hip thrust. (More on Zumba pants
later.) Zumba is dance. It’s movement. It’s a little salsa mixed with lots of
suggestive hip thrusting that can make even the chubbiest of gals feel their
inner sex goddess…if you can get past the sweat, that is.
After asking two different friends to attend (to which both
graciously said no) I was off to the class all by my lonesome. Oh well. I
decided awhile ago that this journey is my own. It’s no one else’s. Although
sometimes I reserve the right to bitch about it anytime I want to. (: I had
been to the Zumba class about a year ago and had fun, but had sort of forgotten
what it was all about. I have to say that I was delighted that inside the
mirror-laced workout room (eww!) I found a variety of women – chubby gals, like
myself, two younger high-school cheerleaders with tans I envied (however, skin
cancer I do not envy), some older ladies with hip thrusts that made me question
their extra-curricular activities, moms that had probably carved out time between baseball games and cooking dinner - just
to attend this hour long class, even a 12 year old boy who brought me great
delight during the workout – because, I mean, dude had some killer dance moves,
one older man – because there’s always that one shady, creeper-of-a-man who
wants to be in an almost all-ladies workout class and, last but not least, normal ladies that looked
like people you and I could laugh with over a high-calorie smoothie that we both assumed was nutritious.
So, cut to the actual workout. Not bad at all. I was glad I
wasn’t the only newcomer. There were three girls who, like me, had obtained a
coveted spot in the back of the class and were struggling picking up the dance
moves as I was. But after a few rounds, the steps were fairly easy to pick up.
My heart rate was up there. But, I didn’t feel the need to call 911 either,
which is a good thing. Especially since I have no insurance coverage. Cuz I’m
just a rebel like that. Like I mentioned before, there were several hip thrusts
involved and lots of booty shakin’ – a lot of which you might see on a
late-night BET music video. But, hey, like the song says, "shake what your momma gave ya" – or, in
my case, didn’t give ya. The point is to have fun and not to worry about if you
are doing something perfect or making an ass out of yourself. With the
exception of one person (who was super-intense – think Denise Austin meets Richard Simmons on steroids), everyone there made mistakes. But everyone
was having fun. And burning off some serious calories. Even the leader was
tolerable. You know, because most aerobic instructors, with their fitness zeal
and all, just make you want to roll your eyes sometimes. But this gal was
actually cool. But, apparently the Zumba instructors have to wear these Zumba
pants. They are kinda like black (or neon colored) wind suit pants with ribbons
attached to them. I don’t understand them at all. But I do understand why everyone
loves to Zumba. It’s fun. And for the most part, you don’t even realize you’re
working out. So, yes, I will be attending Zumba class again.
P.S. And I will continue to make a valiant effort to not,
under any circumstances, look at myself in the mirrors while working out.
Unless you are Barbie, I offer the same suggestion to you…for your own mental
well-being. Because no one should have to see themselves doing hip thrusts…ever.
Happy hip thrusting,
Chubby Girl
