Zumba

Did you ever have a secret that you were embarrassed about? One you knew people would judge you for if they knew about it?

For a while I had a secret addiction to country music.

I’m from the south, but not the ‘deep’ south, which starts around the middle of Florida and travels upwards until it butts up against a bunch of yankees. Down below the middle of Florida, a bunch of snowbirds, a mix of spanish speakers from different countries, nearby island cultures, and more reside together. I remember listening to a lot of main stream stuff, top billboard music, clubbing and dancy stuff.

But somehow, later in life, I got addicted to country. I’m over it now, but I never really told anyone because it just didn’t fit into any group I identified with. And really in life we all just want to fit in, right?

Recently I’ve moved onto another addiction I’m embarrassed to admit.

Zumba.

It’s an odd concept, but also a brilliant one for someone just like me – an ex cheerleader who likes to dance, but can’t stay up late enough to go clubbing anymore. It’s like learning a latin dance routine every week. The best part is that is no need to practice or remember it for next week. And it’s probably burning a ton of calories. I’m dripping with sweat by the end of it.

Of course, those mirrors that they have in work out studios they do not have on dance floors. They make me very aware, for the first time in my life, that I really can’t dance. That in fact, I’m making an absolute ASS of myself IN PUBLIC. But I just can’t stop. I’m addicted.

Luckily I don’t know any of these people. But even if I did, these people are also here making complete fools of themselves so it doesn’t matter.

Even more fortunate is my vicinity. If I was still in South Florida, I’d be the awkward white girl in the class of natural movers and shakers. But we live in the midwest. No one here can dance either. When I glance around the room I’m comforted in the fact that only a few of the other people actually know what they are doing.

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