You Want to ZUMBA?

Zumba. "Ditch the Workout. Join the Party!"

I have to admit that my interest was at least a LITTLE peaked when I overheard a group of late 20's/early 30's Moms jawboning about this latest craze in fitness squarely aimed at women in that same demographic. They couldn't get enough! They LOVED ZUMBA!

Likely, that was around two years ago because I've since started working out elsewhere and the craze that started in smelly gyms in YMCA's* across the universe has since gone viral. You can buy your own Zumba clothes, DVD's, fitness equipment, bumper sticker. I hear rumor that you can even get a licensed Zumba tatoo in places that would make your Granny blush.**

I never caught the disease. Never darkened the doors of a class. Never got THE FEVER. But, lucky for me, a Zumba infomercial was on TV the other day, when I was trapped in the bathroom getting my face dolled up and hair done for a date with Big Daddy Mike.

I watched in the mirror as the girls gyrated their six-packs, tans, and perfect, stick-like legs across the well-appointed fake gym. All the while, smiling, with teeth so white that satellites picked up the anomaly and the engineers looking at the footage asked "What's that blazing white streak coming from that dance studio in L.A.?"

Oh, and, of course, there was the token male in the audience, placed there to convince the poor, whipped man who was drug to his girlfriend's/new wife's Zumba class that "YOU BELONG HERE, TOO!"***

Then I got to thinking: "This looks a little like another craze I remember. Wait a minute, has it been thirty years ago? My gosh, it has. It was called A.E.R.O.B.I.C.S."

And, truly, the bubble of Zumba was burst for me.

The biggest difference between doing exercise with a group of women now and then is the music. Back then, we all giggled when "Let's Get Physical" came on the boom box because we teenagers knew Olivia Newton-John was REALLY talking about S.E.X. OH MY.

Now, you get to dance to rap that will tell you, with an explicit lyric warning, what the new, improved, appropriate term is for your private parts.

Don't get me started on the clothing. Back in the day, we put on tights from head to waist, put a belted-leotard on after that, strapped on a headband (and, maybe, wrist bands), and completed the look with scrunchy leggings. In the middle of Summer, you had better have remembered your water bottle or you'd get heat stroke just from walking from the house to your car.

To Zumba, apparently you find the halter top that has the shortest distance of fabric between the top and bottom of your breasts and pull that teensy thing on. If you've had plastic surgery, the bra is optional. Team that with shorts so small that some countries have outlawed them and you are ready to go. Just don't bend over very far or trouble will ensue. Or that token male Zumba dude will get excited.

In aerobics, the most sexual pose we did was a side bend. Zumba and you get to show everyone what MIGHT happen in your bedroom later that night.

So, thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather join Olivia N-J back in the 80's, rock out to "Like a Virgin", and rattle every bone in my body in ways that will cripple me in my 50's than try a Zumba class.

Let's just hope the next fitness craze involves an outfit that would rival a nun's habit and dance moves that would only make Senior Citizens blush. Couple that with Lawrence Welk music and slow repetitive movements and I'm signing right the heck up!

Somehow, I think that's exactly where I've landed at the ripe old age of 44.



*Now only known as the "Y". Because, heaven forbid, we should mention the words "men" or "Christian" or we might offend someone.

**OK. I don't know if this is true or not, but most Granny's have a word for a woman with a tattoo. But, just like Auntie Em in The Wizard of Oz, they won't say it.

***Blinding white smile and snicker after the comment, free of charge.