Archive | November, 2011

A BWG perspective on Zumba

20 Nov

This weekend I attended a sports federation conference that involved a number of more-or-less obligatory activities. One such activity was a Zumba class. For those three of you who have been living in a cave, bereft of the soul-sucking influence of infomercials, Zumba is a form of group dance exercise that involves a nice-looking instructor with seemingly boundless enthusiasm and hip control borrowed from Shakira, encouraging a group of somewhat pasty-complected, hopelessly non-color-coordinated and overweight white folks (who look nothing like the participants in the infomercials) to move their bodies in ways that would cause their teenage offspring to spontaneously combust from sheer embarrassment.

I couldn’t bear to participate in this frenzy of estrogen ecstasy unprepared, but I noticed that the gymnasium that we would be using had a climbing wall. I have a bag of climber’s chalk in my gym bag that I use to help me grip the bar when weightlifting, so I chalked up and took a few unroped trips up the wall in the hopes that the feeling of cheating death would provide me with a combined adrenaline/testosterone speedball to ease the imminent pain of having my guy card revoked.

While I was defying death 20 feet above the floor somebody opened up the equipment room and brought out a few basketballs, so I took one of the adjustable-height backboards down to 9 feet and had me a little slam-fest. One-handed, two handed, straight on, from underneath and so on. Just enough to put some frosting on my cake of masculinity in an attempt to prepare for the upcoming assault.

Right on time, this hairless-bodied latin looking guy with fingerless gloves bounces into the room and puts on his headset mike I know that it is time to sweat. With a voice straight out of central casting, Rico does not disappoint the dozens of apparent Desi Arnaz/Julio Iglesias/Enrique Iglesias fans in the audience.

“Remember ladies, Zumba is all about having fun! Are we having fun yet?” (YES!)

“In order to make this a little more fun for all of us, when I do this cute little move with my hands, I want to hear you squeal with delight! Squeal like your teenage daughter would if she got a date with Rob Pattinson! If you don’t have a teenage daughter, squeal like you would if you found the perfect pair of Manolo Blahnik pumps in your size, on sale for 20% of the normal price! If that doesn’t do it for you, pretend that Oprah just gave everybody in the studio audience a Pontiac and you really, really want the cameraman to focus on you!”

“OK, are you all ready? On the count of three I want to hear you squeal! One, two, three (squeal). Is that all you got? Maybe you didn’t see my cute little hand motion. I’ll add a cute little tushie motion to help us all get in the mood and let’s try it again! One, two, three (SQUEAL!!) That’s much better! I just knew you had it in you!”

“Are we ready? Here we go! One two three four…” (ad nauseum)

The next 35+ minutes were a bit of blur, but I’m pretty certain that I remember gems such as the following:

“Lift and bend and stretch and shake it loose!”

“Shake your booties like there is no tomorrow!”

“Now shake your chests like you are a sports bra tester!”

“Now it is time for the naughty pelvic thrusts – no, harder – NO, HARDER! Do it like you are trying to get excommunicated!! Squeal with delight!” (SQUEAL!)

I’m still not sure which team the instructor was batting for, but I was amazed at the facility with which he played the ladies. As far as I know there is no way (short of being a ROCK GOD) for a BWG to get that many ladies to squeal that loudly on cue. We don’t have the accent, we don’t have the hip control and we don’t have the devil-may-care confidence to pull it off.

That having been said, I’m pretty sure that I could tie the little fucker up in a pretzel if I had to.

Time to grab a cold beer (Nothing lite. Never lite.) and see if American Choppers is on TV. If not, there’s always Rambo or Die Hard…