Alas, I did plenty of eating over the holidays, and clearly chasing four small children around wasn't sufficient exercise to keep the fat fairy away.
So off to the gym with me.
But what to do? I like being active, chasing kids at the park, hiking, gardening, etc... But actual exercise? Blergh.
The bonus of me time sweetens the pot a bit, and I realize that if I don't step up my game, keeping up with these kids is going to drive me into the ground.
I know people who rave about Zumba and how fun it is, and I learned Latin Dance in college. (Though I did take it as a required PE credit, again avoiding actual exercise.) I can keep a beat, so how bad can it be?
As it turns out, the real question is, "Exactly how white are you?"
Answer: Really, really white. Really.
The instructor in my first class was African-American, and she was shaking things I didn't know you could shake. My German-Irish heritage gives me genes that dance with a minimum of hip movement, and absolutely no movement from the waist up (to ensure you don't spill your beer, you know).
Shake my booty while moving my arms and turning in a circle? I can't even figure out how to shake my booty like that, let alone add two more movements to the sequence. And those arms? Hip and pumping on my instructor. A grand mal seizure on me.
I was feeling as white as could be until the third song when a white guy in his mid-forties came into the class and joined in. For those of you are fans of the show Friends, I have only this to say: Phoebe running. (If you're not a Friends fan, follow the link and you'll see what I'm talking about.)
I still think I'd be much better at Polka-size, but hey, if he can do it. I can do it!