Okay, so I frickin’ Zumba’d today. Therefore have in mind that at approximately 5.45pm this evening, whilst you were stuck in traffic, kicking back, still at work, or watching ‘home all day’ shows on the telly. I (Ultimate Glamour Puss extra-ordinaire) was bent backwards, doing exotic snake arms in the arm, to a ceiling that looked like it was taking the piss out of me.
OMG Zumba is not for the faint hearted! Holy shit, it’s not! I have never been so worn down to what seemed like the fastest horny jungle beats of latin, in my life ever. I’m a kitty cat. I do things slowly and seductively. Bt oMG i was winging it from side to side, shimmiing for strangers to Ricky Martin, doing foot movements that only Whitney on crack would be proud of and all of this is a lemon top, that really needed to be holding my boobies in better!
I fooled Tara (a blond who I work with) into doing it with me. I was a Zumba virgin, therefore i wisely took what I call a Zumba whore with me. 🙂 I looked to my left and there Tara was, giving it some welly. I looked to my behind and there wiggled 50 year olds in pink neon, doing *grunt* faces as they really got into it. At looked at my life, that at that time seemed to be on fast forward pills. I mean my body was doing things that only erotic latin dancing Queens and sluts do. You’d think i’d be good at it right! (And I was all boasty in the changing rooms, whilst palcing on my outfit, that i had skiived work to go buy. I wanted to go with pink booty shorts. Yet the idea of sweaty weight lifters with boners attempting to woo me made me gip up a little.) Anyway, yeah, I was yabbering on about how I probably didn’t need water. I’d be fine and all that whatnot, whilst Tara just gave me a look that ‘tried to warn me-yet knew i wouldn’t listen.’ I love how when it came time to getting changed and ready.