The things I do for Juneathon: Zumba

I have always said I’d never, ever do Zumba. I mean, look at it – it involves dancing, in public, sober: what the fuck? But I’d nosed at a class that was going on in the gym while I was on the crosstrainer the other week and it didn’t look *that* bad, so I thought I’d give it a go in the spirit of all things Juneathon.

I fucking hated it.

‘Hate’ is possibly a bit strong but by 11:03 I’d started to check my watch and the class only started at 11:00. By 11:30 I said to the woman next to me I wanted to go home and she said the instructor wouldn’t mind if I left but I said I’d stick it out.

Although the class wasn’t full of young, thin, coordinated women with rhythm (I’d guess the average age was about 50), I was convinced I was shuffling around more haphazardly and looking more bewildered than anyone else there. The instructor sashayed and shimmied and jumped and squatted, and just as I caught up with what she was doing, she started doing something else.

My god, I’ve never been so glad for the stretching part of a class to come.

I didn’t think Zumba was for me and I was right. At least I gave it a go though, eh?