Apparently, my last blahg did not adequately describe the pain and humiliation of the first (and last) Zumba class for my sadistic readers.

I joined the gym and received a complimentary recommended training schedule that includes: 2 strength training days, 2 rest days, 2 cardio days, and 1 run day. For the cardio days, it was suggested that I take the Zumba class offered on Tuesdays and Tuesdays at 6:30 pm.

First strike! I hate working out in the afternoon because I’m already tired and have had a full day. Plus, that is dinnertime. Still, I went to the class on Tuesday night.

I walked into a room covered in mirrors so, not only is it not possible to hide in the back row, the mirrors reflect off of each other so that there are an infinite number of Adrianas scowling from every angle. Some of the reflections lined up so perfectly that I looked like a very uncoordinated Radio City Music Hall Rockette kick line. Strike two!

The music started. Ugh. I expected a warm up but, instead, the instructor started stepping and ending with a hip shake to the right, then to the left. It was quick and there were no instructions. She raised her arm up to show the mirrors two fingers. To everyone in the room (except me) this meant to take two steps and a hip shake. She saw my hesitation and zeroed in on me despite my very obvious desire to obtain invisibility. Her reflected eyes locked on to my actual eyes, said “It’s easy, just follow along!” Strike three, taut lady!

I turned around, picked up my water bottle, and walked the fuck out.