I had a weird day yesterday. It was one of those days when you wonder where you have misplaced your brain.
First, I went to my first ever Zumba class.
I usually go to Yoga, or Pilates, or Budokon. None of these require shoes. So I go in my flip-flops if the temperature outside is above 70 degrees. (If it's below 70, I'm wearing faux-fur boots, or wool-socked sneakers. What, I was raised in Eastern Europe! You have to protect your feet, i.e. your ovaries from cold!)
And I heard once, a long time ago, maybe twice, that Zumba is some kind of dance. Dance/Aerobics. Something like that.
But my brain yesterday didn't register the fact that dancing in my Fit Flops, (those famous flip flops that allegedly make you workout when you walk? Yeah, I'm not convinced either. Buy I bought them once upon a time in NYC. Two pairs. I'll shut up now.) will be that much more difficult.
For someone who has a serious background in Latin dancing (I used to compete when in high school, in Serbia), I was in love with Zumba after two minutes, and calling myself a moron after one. Zumba is really a partner-less samba, cha cha and rumba combined. It's wonderful! Fun but sweaty workout. And in fit flops? Total nightmare!
I had to rest my ankles every five minutes. I felt as if I were going to get arteriosclerosis or wear my ankles out or something. They seriously hurt, not muscles (good kind of pain) but bones. Yes, I could literary feel my bones and joints screaming "You, moron!" Especially since the rest of the class wore sneakers. And the incredibly sexy Latino teacher on the podium wore...shoes. And nothing else. Just kidding (Sorry. Hope I didn't cause any heart attacks. E-mail me for details.)
But I'm no quitter. No sir. I danced my ankles away through the whole delicious hour. I had to take a "bathroom break," and several "water breaks," short but necessary. I considered taking my fit flops off and dancing in my bare feet, but then again, my Serbianism got in the way. The floor was dirty. Jedna li je muka, my mother would say. Or, in English, I wish there were only one problem.
But I did it. I will never, ever wear fit flops or anything floppy to Zumba. I will take Zumba twice a week from now on because it's a party, not a workout. In my sneakers.
Then in the afternoon I went to a cafe to write, with an empty battery and no charger.
I laughed and decided to order a happy hour cocktail. John Daly. Someone told me he was a golf player who liked to drink? (Too lazy to look that up too..)