Marumba

After taking only 5 Zumba classes, I've pretty much figured out that I am by no means sexy or all that coordinated when it comes to shaking my money maker. I am a girl trying to shake what her momma (and Dr. Moore) gave her and looking like a goofball while I'm at it.

Don't get me wrong.  I LOVE to Zumba. I mean, the whole point is that I'm there, I'm moving, I'm sweating like a whore in church, and I'm having fun.

Needless to say, I've discovered that I can pick up on most of the moves, but for those that I struggle with, I pretty much do my own thing.  (I was cracking Michelle up the other night because I was just kicking my legs about a la Elaine from Seinfeld.  You've gotta have fun with it.  Right?  RIGHT!)
So, I've decided that I do my own brand of Zumba.  I've even given it a name - Marumba.  (Martha + Zumba)

If you were to witness me Marumba-ing, you'd probably laugh until you wet yourself and I wouldn't blame you. I can be a bit spastic when I'm not picking up on the moves.  Sometimes, it's hard for me to get my long legs moving as fast as the short legged instructors.  I've figured out that if I do half as many moves, I cut down on the spaz factor.

I'm getting better at picking up the dance steps, but when the instructor starts putting arm movements into the mix, all hell breaks loose.  I start flailing about like a 2 year old throwing a fit.  I'm sure it's quite comical to watch.

All things considered, I'm going to keep on Marumba-ing until I can fully Zumba.  It really is so much fun.
And one last thing, to anyone who happens to be behind me during class, I apologize.  Profusely.  No one should have to witness the shaking, jiggling and quaking that goes on when I start shaking my booty because it keeps jiggling even after the dance step has changed.  So sorry.