Don’t cry for me Pitbull

by | May 13, 2013 | Blog, Zumba Stories | 0 comments

I miss you but going to class tonight–That was a mistake. I thought after almost a month waiting for these ribs to heal,  I could return to about 50%  capacity and take Laurie’s Zumba class.  Nope.

Oh,  how I missed  you  Suavemente, besame. I needed a fix of some salsa, a gentle shake of the hips, something.  I took my usual place in the first/second row but after the first song, I moved myself to the back row. From that vantage-point I watched my fellow “zitches” dance and shake to all the songs I love so much.  The interesting part is that at one point during the class, I just relaxed and watched and I found myself smiling.  I love how Joy moves her whole body and Dear God, I hope those bad boys stay put.  Imelda moves with the grace of a dancer and her face in the mirror is priceless.  Kim and Sharon have it down; cool and collected and right in step. Gina leads the pack. The two breast cancer survivors and my fellow Syracuse University fan…all in step.

I have to say, the gang in the back…not so much.  They are working on their game. What a different perspective and with my lame old body moving counter intuitively to the music, I felt like the guy in the unitard with his girlfriend in the over-sized shirt.  And then I had a thought…are they looking at me like that? Are they saying, “look at that poor girl with no rhythm!”  I wanted to shout, “I can do this, I know the steps…my ribs are broken!” Too late.  I started to get those half smiles.  The ones that say, it’s OK, you’ll get the steps and the moves…the looks I myself have given to the ladies I helped and taught the steps to… the Russian..she is in the front row now!

Pitbull, if by any chance you are reading this blog, please know that I love you and your music and for an old lady who has no idea what you are singing about in Spanish, you are sheer perfection.  There are about 10 of us who think so.  I will be back. I promise. In the meantime, I will listen to your tunes while walking the dog and ever so carefully shakin’ what I’ve got….or not.

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KarenHello and welcome.
I am often asked, “What is Pasta on the Floor?”
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