Ah Zumba!

AAAAAAAH ZUMBA!

The shout from the loudspeakers surprised me, and I jumped. I quickly looked around to check if anyone saw my reaction, then breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that no one else was in the clubhouse yet.

I recently decided to work on getting back to shape, but I was getting tired of my home workouts, which usually consisted of kickboxing and dance videos. I was hoping to find some other physical activities to do, preferably while mingling with other people. After all, I wasn’t a very social person, and someone recently told me that joining some social club might keep me from my nightly depression-anxiety cocktail.

It was perfect then when I saw the ad in the clubhouse about free zumba sessions every Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I’d always wanted to try zumba, and maybe this would help me meet more people somehow. So, despite my initial nervousness, I signed up.

So there I was, 10 minutes early, waiting for my first ever zumba session to start. I made a beeline to a corner of the room where I saw an empty stool and sat there, unsure of what to do. Salsa music was already filling the open hall.

After a few minutes, a group of middle aged ladies entered the clubhouse. Their loud conversation was deafened only by the tinkle of their identical colorful hip scarfs, which were lined with bright gold coins. Their steps echoed with a wave of little bells, which only rang as they laughed and walked together.

I looked at them enviously, and wondered if the belly dancing belts were really necessary. I didn’t recall seeing a note on the flyer about it, nor did they mention it when I registered for the class. I stared down at my hands and breathed deeply, counting my breaths, hoping I could keep at bay the panic attack that I felt was coming.

Just then, I felt a warm hand on my arm, and I looked up. It was one of the ladies of the group, and she was wearing a bright blue scarf around her waist. She smiled at me.

“Hi! Are you here for the zumba session?”

I took a deep breath in and nodded at her. “Yes,” I replied in a cracked voice. “I registered for it last Monday.”

She sat on the stool next to mine and placed her backpack on the floor. Patting my arm, she said, “Ah, that’s great! Not many young people join us, so it’s nice to see you here.”

She looked at the other ladies in the group who were standing about, talking to each other in loud voices and giggling like school girls. “We started doing this a month ago. It gets lonely being stuck at home, you know? At least with this, we get to go out of the house for a while and gossip with each other. Oh! And do a little bit of exercise too.” She chuckled, and the jingle of coins accompanied her movements.

She must have seen me look towards her accented waist, because she exclaimed, “Ah! Yes, these,” as she pointed to her coin-lined hip scarf. “They seem silly, but we do love a bit of sparkle and pizzazz. Makes us feel young again.” She then removed her belt and, before I could say anything, put it around my hips. It tinkled as she tied it around my waist. I was blushing furiously as she stepped away and surveyed her work.

“Perfect! You’re one of us now. Come on… sorry, what’s your name again?”

“Jules.”

“Jules! Wonderful. I’m Bea. Come on, Jules, I’ll introduce you to the others before…”

Just then, a fit young man, who I guessed was the zumba instructor, came into the room. Some of the ladies started crowding him, while the others started positioning themselves in the hall.

Bea got up and touched my arm. “Come on, Jules. Let’s dance!” I got off my stool and followed her to the middle of the floor, the coins tinkling with my every movement. I was a little embarrassed about the weird belt on my waist, but I saw the approving glances of the rest of the ladies we passed. Bea herself beamed proudly at me as she beckoned me to stand next to her.

Everyone started moving to place, and the instructor looked over us all with a smile. Just then, the track changed, and an upbeat song played in the speakers.

He started sashaying to the beat, and the other ladies followed, the little coins dancing around with them. I looked around, watching the others move, but Bea touched my wrist lightly and smiled. “Just let go and dance! Just have fun with it!”

I smiled and tried to keep up with the steps. Soon, I was losing myself to the music and the repetitive movements. I turned to Bea, who was beaming at me while wiping the drops of perspiration falling down her forehead.

Just then, the dance instructor turned to us all, and shouted loudly in the hall, all of us following suit.

AAAAAAAH ZUMBA!

–
Image source: deviantart.com/madison-cowles-serna/art/Zumba-142037789
First written March 8, 2018.
#155