I started Zumba March, 2014.  For several months I had absolutely no interaction with any of the 100 or so gals in the classes. I stood in the back row,  trying to learn the various typical Zumba steps, trying to be unobtrusive, trying not to stare at anyone’s ass. It was a good workout, got me to the gym 4-5 times a week. I didn’t lose any weight, but that was okay. I still enjoyed myself because I like music and dancing. And it took my mind off what I really wanted and loved to do,  play basketball, which at my age is a disaster waiting to happen.

That was then, this is now, a year later:

First, I was promoted from the last row of the class to the middle row. Actually, I promoted myself. That’s a big deal for me. I felt it was time. The last row is for scrubs, beginners who have no clue,  gals who for some unexplained reason constantly go left when everyone goes right ( I call them the Elaine Bennis dancers ), clueless guys who half-heartedly try Zumba with the wrong intentions, late comers who squeeze in and bump into you, and  20-somethings in spandex who come in for a lark and find out what lousy shape they’re in, so they don’t try because they’re too cool or embarrassed. They usually leave early. That pisses me off.  It’s disrespectful to the hard working gals in the class.

Second, I’m not a pariah anymore. I’ve actually had a few conversations with some of the gals. Well, not really converations. Just kind of “hi, how are you?” No big deal, just 5 minutes before class. Actually, I’ve sort of gravitated to a few gals that are in the middle of the class like me. They actually talk to me like I’m one of them. We usually line up in the same row  by chance or on purpose. There’s comfort that we all know the steps, I don’t get a death stare when I clumsily bump them, and we laugh at some of the goofy things we see in class.To my left is a graceful willowy blonde, probably a ballet dancer in another life. We speculate about everyone’s REAL dancing ability. You see, just because you can follow Zumba steps doesn’t mean you can actually dance. Hey, the first row knows all the steps, but it doesn’t mean they can dance. We’ll be the judge of that.
To the right of me are the “sisters”,  who I’ve admired for a long time since my dark days in the back row. I always got a kick out of them because they seemed to laugh a lot throughout the class. At what? I had no idea, since I don’t normally associate having fun with sweating my ass off. But now that I’m next to them, I realize that we have similar senses of humor, laughing at stuff, especially  the absurdity of some of the steps. Like the grinding, humping, twerking  moves that you expect from exotic dancers, but not from suburban mothers. Unless they have a part time job at the Golden Banana. “Sisters” are not only really good dancers, but best of all, they laugh at my jokes. I like that. Hey, I’m a guy.  Guys love that. Feed our egos girls. I always wondered why some women don’t smile enough. Don’t they realize smiling is a really attractive trait? I tell young guys to find a girl that smiles and laughs a lot. That girl will give you a life. That’s my row. And I even know the names of other gals. They know mine. We say hi. That’s all. But that’s all you need. Hey, it’s just a workout. It’s not a pick up bar. I think they respect I’m there for the right reasons. I don’t leer, I don’t flirt. Well…..I don’t consciously stare or flirt.

I shouldn’t forget the adorable little gal that started in the back when I started, clueless like me, not really caring about wearing the latest LA Fitness style.  But now she has moved to the front,  with confidence, wearing bright colors and spandex. She can actually wear spandex, if you know what I mean. Good for her.

The front row gals are mostly really good and know all the steps. One, Miss Perfect, is so good she could actually teach the class. But unlike those annoying know-it-all precocious girls in the first row in grammar school, I can’t criticize her because she’s actually nice. And more importantly, I follow her when I can’t see the instructor, which is often.

Front row gals are so confident that they occasionally do “unplanned solos”. That’s okay. They’re cool, funky dancers, fun to watch. Amazingly, one of them did a solo one Sunday morning in the middle of the room that I swear she learned in her stripper days. Seriously, all she needed was a pole. And after class, she probably got into her Suburban van and went to church with her family. Hysterical.

Don’t get me wrong, I still have to be careful. There’s “mean girl”, always plunking herself in front of and too close to me, pretty much guaranteeing unwanted contact. She’s made it clear that she thinks I don’t belong. It’s like she’s telling me “get out of the way. You’re taking a spot from a WOMAN!!!”. I’ve gotten plenty of dirty looks from her.

Then there’s the “tall girl” who shows that she’ll tolerate my presence in HER class by giving me a forearm shiver to the chest. Cute if you’re in the first grade.

It’s not as if I’m unaware of my place as one of the few non-gay guys in class. I really try to avoid getting in the way. Tough to do when you’re a big guy. I’m just happy I’m pretty much accepted by most of the regular women. I think they tolerate me because I’ve been faithfully coming for almost two years without getting slapped for inappropriate behavior.

And I gotta say a few things about the female gender:

1) Women don’t like to sweat. I can’t figure out why. They turn the fans on as soon as class starts!!! Come on! Sweat girls! Maybe it’s a guy thing. I grew up playing sports. No pain, no gain. I love to sweat when I’m working out. Most guys do. But the gals HATE sweating.

2) Half the class doesn’t really work hard. They half-ass it. They don’t push themselves. Maybe that’s why they don’t lose weight. I can’t figure it out. I’m a very competitive person. I’ve been like that ever since I was a kid. I had lots of fights and arguments. I always had to win the argument and eventually the game. Not trying hard, not trying to learn the steps, not pushing yourself to the limit, are not in my nature.

3) You’re in the room waiting for class to start, and it’s so F’n loud!! I’m standing there thinking of why I’m in this place full of women, why I’m not on a basketball court and where did time go; when this cacophony of sound bombards my ears, like a high school cafeteria. 35 women yapping! What the F are they talking about?! Even “sisters”, whom I love, are always yapping….DURING class!
Can you ALL…JUST….SHUT….THE…F…UP?! No. They can’t. Not in their genes.

4) There’s another guy who’s a semi-regular, actually seems like a nice guy. For some reason all the women love him, always hugging him.  I’ve been coming for two years and nobody hugs ME! What the F!!

5) Despite my whining, I want to make it clear that I have great admiration for the Zumba women. They are wives, mothers, and working women who get to class on a regular basis, squeezing in an hour for themselves.They’re trying to get in shape just so they can look their best, even though they know they’re ridiculously objectified and expected by  society to look like the lollipop heads on TV. I wish they would understand that attractivenesss is partly a state of mind. And dressing for her body type might help too. If a woman is confident and thinks she’s sexy, she probably is.

6) I think most of the women have lived long enough to have interesting backgrounds. But maybe not quite like the woman I met last week who told me that she escaped the “killing fields” of Cambodia. Imagine that! The freaking “killing fields”! A place of horror that we read about in the Vietnam war era. And now, decades later, she’s in the Peabody Y doing Zumba.

7) A few words about the instructors:
Love Cheryl. She’s full of fun. Kind of zany, but really nice to everyone. She tries hard to teach us the steps, even staying after class to teach the Elaine Bennis dancers, oblivious to the reality that they have little rhythm and  dancing ability. Hey, some of us got it and some of us don’t.

Chris is excellent. Great workout. Seems like a very nice guy. He tries hard both to push us and to color coordinate his outfits.  Speaking of outfits, I’m trying to get my row to wear more color. They’re good looking women but stick mostly to basic black, because good looking women are always unhappy with their bodies. No matter how many times you tell them that they’re beautiful, they’ll still see imperfection in the mirror. Just ask Amy Schumer.

Finally, despite my idiotic, sophomoric diet, I’ve started to lose weight. Hey, I’m glad l lost weight. But that wasn’t the plan. I just wanted to exercize to maintain, to be able to eat ice cream and bread. If you’ve read my first Zumba BLOG, losing weight is kind of a no-no. I’m already an interloper in a women’s class. No need to rub it in. Apparently, I didn’t take my own advice:
DON’T LOSE WEIGHT!!!