The Flasher at Latin Aerobics

I used to believe in the power of willpower, that nothing within my control was impossible if I set my mind to it. As my good friend once told me "U Gotta Hit It with Your Mind".

Armed with sheer determination, I told myself that THIS time, yes, this time, it would be different. My friend texted me she would be late so I made my way to the class first. Despite my being slightly early, there were already 7 ladies there so I could not take the prime spots just behind the instructor, nor could I see myself clearly in the mirror. Especially since I'd left my glasses (for driving) in the car.

The music starts and I find myself jumping and hopping to the right and to the left like a drunk one-legged toad with my hands held up in front of my face and the other knee crocked at a ninety degree. The instructor on the other hand looks really cool and I figure that I am just being too harsh on myself. I study her back as intently as I can - she is wearing a muscle-back shirt and I can see the flesh on her upper back wobbling.

So I try to shake as hard as she does to make my own back fats move in time too. It does not require great effort, having a great deal of them. Then the instructor lets out an insane cackle of laughter and starts skipping around. This makes me very excited. I want to prance too, like a pony, like a kid, oh watch me, I am young again!

Between prancing and making sure I shake every bit of me the way the instructor does, AND with my view of myself in the mirror obstructed, I forget how I look. I want to hit this with my mind, so my attention is focused fully on the person I must mimic.

When we do a side move and I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I am horrified. The waistband of my too-small shorts has rolled down to below my lower belly to expose my bright red panties. It is the action of moving my knees upwards to my belly that has caused this. I roll up the waist band of the shorts over my panties quickly.

I want to believe that the instructor bears me no ill will. But the next few moves involves bending over, wiping the ground and again my waist band rolls down when I bend down. I cannot concentrate any more, I cannot hit it with my mind anymore. The universe seems to be conspiring against me. How can I draw flowers in the eye or draw an imaginary violin when 1 hand has to keep rolling up the waist band of my shorts.

I tell you - it has to be a conspiracy of sorts to keep me from being the star of this show.

Latin Aerobics - I will be back.

I missed the last class (the third one) because I was holidaying in Kota Kinabalu with my CEB the weekend before the Easter weekend.

If not for the fact that my friend had signed up for the class and was counting on me to turn up, I would have skipped the class yesterday as well. Having an exercise buddy really does help to keep one on the exercise track!

Fresh from the "success" of preparing dinner on Sunday for my FIL and CEB (which I shall blog about next), I decided to steam the fish slice that my MIL had given me for dinner before the aerobics class. Steaming the fish with lots of ginger slices (to kill the fishy smell), salted vegetables ( to lend taste) and some chili padi slices on the top was a fast and healthy option that required little preparation between the time I reached home from work and the class at 7.30pm.

As we were walking to the CC, my friend shared that last week's class was the toughest yet. And to my delight, I found out that she had the song "Move it like a freak" stuck in her head too since the last class. With the healthy dinner in my tummy and my spirits boosted by our little chat before class, I entered the dance studio brimming with good cheer.

We were slightly late so we had to stand near the back of the class and it was difficult to see the instructor past the girl in front of me. And once the music started, it became abundantly clear that missing one session hadn't done me any favors. I seemed to have two, no make it three, left feet that wouldn't co-operate and my movements were all out of time and not coordinated.

Midway through the class, a middle-aged man with a board comes in. He nods to the instructor and walks to the back of the class. It is impossible to watch the instructor and dance while watching him at the same time but I do my best. He appears to be taking notes and even a recording. I guess he could be short-listing dancers to take part in some parade or event. I also guess that he could be noting the class's attendance and instructor's performance.

When he leaves, the instructor comments that she does not know why he is there. I tell my friend that maybe he is there to take a video to post on YouTube, or there to find the world's worst dancer which would be yours truly. She starts to laugh her bwahahaha laugh and soon I follow. The instructor glares at us.

And as if to punish us, she puts on a really fast routine and I find myself twirling around, and making ridiculous motions with my hands such as mock-wiping my bum. She does not look silly doing it but I do. I figure that if I follow her exactly, I will not look silly too. So I resolve to shake every part of the body that she shakes and move as fast as her.

I concentrate so hard on mimicking her that I do not notice the distance between my friend and me. I twirl, shake, draw flowers in the air with my hands and poke her somewhere I have no business poking. She lets out a donkey bray of surprise and laugh the bwahahaha. I am totally unable to concentrate any more on the instructor. We stand there like two clowns chortling at our own jokes. The rest of the class is serious, all trying to mimic the grace of the instructor who is now scowling at us. It was an accident, mdm! An accident.

I do not fit in. But I will be back.

Latin Aerobics AGAIN

If not for my friend, I would have just skipped the class. As it was, the instructor was most surprised when we walked in 2 mins late. She said she thought we weren't coming back. With good reason.

This time, I manage to stand near the back of the class, somewhere in the middle of the room where there are partitions dividing the room pushed up against 1 wall. She sets us on a punishing routine and I spend a large inappropriate amount of time staring at her ass. She has on this pair of pants with two long tassels that are attached to each side of her ass. OF course, there is a lot of shaking the booty going on and I can see clearly in the mirror that I have a long way to go before I attach any tassels to draw attention to my ass. Half her age and double the ass. Way to go.

I think I have trouble with the turning around steps. This time, I turn so hard I end up with my nose 1cm away from the partitions. I also lunge and hit the lady next to me without meaning to. Luckily it is a glancing blow and I apologize.

Then the Visa Man routine begins and I start jiggling about like that fat sucker in the commercials, my knees to my chest and my arms pushing down. I cannot help but laugh as I watch myself. And to my horror, I cannot stop laughing. My friend catches my eye and she knows what I am thinking. Visa Man. She starts grinning and then I really cannot stop the guffaws. I laugh so hard I have tears in my eyes.

I tell myself to quit it because the instructor can clearly see us in the full length mirror but the laughter bellows out of me. Woo hoo. Visa Man! Even when the instructor meets my eye, I cannot stop.

The mirth cannot be contained and I bellow with laughter as my body shakes uncontrollably.

I think I am getting the work out I need.

A lesson in Latin Aerobics

A friend of more than 14yrs persuaded me to join her in her bid to get fit. Of course, I agreed eagerly, what with my having to buy larger skirts the past year. She suggested Latin Aerobics and since this sounded like something I could do given my exercise routine of running 5km/30mins twice a week, I agreed to commit to an exercise program with her. The first lesson had me right smack at the front of the class (since I was a newbie) with a smattering of oldish ladies behind me. Everyone was dressed to impress...I meant everyone was geared up in nice black tights, proper shoes and a colorful fitting top. I had on my running shoes (which was inappropriate), a loose t-shirt and baggy home shorts. In short, I looked like a poorly dressed unfit bloop. The instructor who had a really tight slim body for her age started the lesson by teaching us a few basic steps. I caught on easily because I'd spent a large amount of my life exercising to aerobics tape which had the same steps. Naturally, my confidence and cockiness grew as I stepped and sashayed along with her. Until she started the music. Now, I found myself huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf while those grey haired ladies behind him seemed to be dancing effortlessly. I was soon out of step, out of sync with the rest of the class and having to face a full length mirror in the dance studio and watch that was a lesson in humility. Then the instructor put on a different song and changed her steps. Obediently, I imitated her without thinking twice and somehow, I ended up looking like the fat man in the Visa Commercials. Exactly. Right down to the smile plastered stupidly on my face as I pumped my arms downwards and jiggled my knees upwards. 

 Mercifully the song didn't last too long and the next song was something about Africa. I tried my darnest to imitate the instructor who was doing some high-legged flamingo step but ended up looking like an ungainly elephant with three legs and two trunks. Me whispering to Friend "That's it. I am not coming back." Friend "It's not so bad lar...just finish this lesson then say. Anyway, take it like you are burning calories". Inspired I again, I whirled and twirled enthusiastically for the rest of the class. With 10mins to go, the instructor decided to instruct us on a new move that was "Elegant" (like BallRoom Dancing she said). It consisted of putting one foot forward and making a 360 degree turn with arms stretched wide. I was happy. This was easy and beat looking like Visa Man. Then she did consecutive turns and there I was. Turning like a top. Free. Easy. Muscles stretched. I was as good as those old ladies in the class. Better in fact, since I was turning faster than them now. Hell, I could even beam at the lady behind me when we were turning ie. she's slow....old! I was toying with the idea of meeting her eyes meaningfully the next twirl around - you know, to convey the message that "I'm not as bad as what the mirror in front of us makes out". 

And indeed I found myself meeting her eyes. But something was wrong with the angle. Then I figured it out. I was lying flat on my back and she was peering down at me. My twirl had resulted in me falling right over. I didn't even know when I hit the ground. Something tells me that this Latin Aerobics thing and me aren't going to last too long. Friend "Next week you coming back right?" Me "Hmmm..."