You know what I mean.
In the immortal – albeit paraphrased – words of Wreckx-N-Effect, this is one of those time when little else will do but a “zoom zoom” and perhaps a “boom boom.” (“Just [shrink] ya rump!“) And yet, friends, things are tough out there in the Zumba front. My initial class is held at a dance studio located at the intersection of Hellandgone and East Jesus. If that’s not a deterrent, the per-class price has skyrocketed FOUR DOLLARS (so not in-keeping with the rate of inflation!).
In good faith, I scored the schedules of local fitness facilities looking for something different. It’s got to be: (1) after work (because if there even exists pre-dawn groove, this Stella ain’t gettin’ it back.); (2) open to non-members at an affordable walk-in rate (commitment-phobes and post-grad penny pinchers in the house!); (3) close to home, work, and civilization (because working to get to a work-out offends the very core of my being); and (4) awesomely butt-kicking (naturally.). After spending many long nights (more like 5 long minutes) scouring the internet, I finally found a Zumba class with everything!
Well, ALMOST everything.
(1) This class is after work. Starting at 6:30, this is technically after my office closes, even if it is still two hours before I usually crawl out of there. (2) This class is held twice a week open to non-members for a dollar cheaper than the PRE-skyrocketted price of my old class which means I’ll have two more dollars per week to throw away on the Starbucks Trenta. (3) This class is so close, it’s actually between work and home.
But, (4) This class is NOT awesomely butt-kicking. In fact, it failed to get it’s foot anywhere near my butt. Which is saying a lot since it’s hard to be in the same room with my butt and yet still not be anywhere near it. Nevertheless, this class placed MUCH more emphasis on complex dance steps. Like, Cheryl Burke meeting Paula Abdul in that alley where Paula and Chester Cheetah filmed “Opposites Attract” kind of emphasis. (Just so you know, I realize it was MC Skat Kat, not Chester Cheetah, but how awesome would it have been if it WAS Chester. I mean, really?) But after 45-minutes of cha-cha-ball change-cha, I was only tired mentally, and the creasing of my brow was the only appreciable muscle flex I experienced. I hardly broke a sweat! And for someone who breaks a sweat tango-ing with a pair of pantyhose every morning, that’s not good.
So, alas, the search for viable Zumba shall charge ever forward because, being at night, open and affordable, and close just isn’t enough. There must be awesome butt-kicking or else, really, what’s the point? Zumba without awesome butt-kicking is like the two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun without the two all-beef patties.
I can only say, “Hey, downtown post-work Zumba – WHERE’S THE BEEF?”