Ladies, if you didn’t come to work, I need you to leave right now. Work those hips. I see you over there acting like you’re tired. Are you ready? Work.
Who writes the lyrics to Zumba songs? A five-year-old playing Mean Boss?
I’m not supposed to be thinking about what’s on the stereo. I am meant to be learning very complicated dance moves in an exercise studio at the Next Gen Club in Kings Park, Perth.
My friend Lucia is an irresistible saleswoman with toned arms and a contagious laugh. She loves her weekly Zumba class and invited me to join her. Lucia’s wearing her party pants – neon print spandex capris – so I know she means business. I am wearing black leggings and a panty liner, my go-to outfit for any activity that might require excessive jumping.
Zumba has its roots in hip-hop, salsa and meringue, so I know this class will feature a lot of booty shaking. Scanning the room, I make an unfounded assumption that I will be able to keep up with these ladies.
The regular Zumbies are in the front row. Jo from Facts of Life is sporting baggy, gray Hammer pants, and her friend is wearing a black t-shirt with the phrase, “I Woke Up Happy.” They are smiling ear to ear and greet the instructor with the kind of affection normally bestowed upon baby penguins in hand-knit sweaters. The teacher is a stand-in for Goldie Hawn in the second half of Overboard– effortlessly sexy in loose-fitting clothes and no makeup.
The music starts. We’re sidestepping and clapping. I can totally handle this.
A minute later, I’m trying to roll my torso in a way that is supposed to be sexy but when I do it, it looks like I’m dodging a tetherball. There’s pivoting, lunging, kicking, and lots of hair flipping. I think of the Joseph Campbell quote I saw in a bathroom stall, “We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” I do some shoulder shimmies.
The regulars are nailing it. Their movements look relaxed and natural, and their faces are glowing with sweat and delight. They make a lot of eye contact with each other. During a song that, based on its relentless chorus, I’m guessing is called “Fed Up,” we do this dance move that involves punching your elbow to the side as if fighting your way onto the subway. The regulars think this gesture is hysterical and give each other looks like, “So happy to be rid of that loser, right? I showed him.”
During a break between songs, I turn to Lucia, “This is hard.” She smiles, “It’s like a party.”
