Zumba: Round Dos

I took my low self-esteem surrounding my Zumba techniques and checked it at the door last night as I tried to fearlessly walk back into my second class.  I assumed I'd just add on to my learnings from my first class and at least have a base point.

My second time would be better than my first time.

Nope. 

I was worse.  Way worse.

This time I shook parts of my body that are technically unshakable.  I looked like a noodle with no rhythm and no self control.  There was no sexy, core-shaping, self control going on.  My body shook uncontrollably because my muscles were so tired, and I was on the verge of sporadically convulsing mid-class.

Picture it:

Jim Parsons from Big Bang Theory    +     wet noodles    =    my attempt at Zumba 

To make things even a gazillion times more embarrassing, there was a 55+ lady in class with sweat pants (elastic bottoms, ewwww) who wore heels in class.   What?  What?  I suppose she was just there to enhance her Samba technique.  Lawdy Lawdy, she sported dye-able pumps...in a gym.  And still had more rhythm than I did.

After class, I routinely bent down to grab my water bottle and towel hoping not to collapse in my own pile of disgusting sweat.  From there I courageously walked out of class to my car. 

In sneakers. 

Not pumps.