I wear a size 13 shoe…

Not really, I actually wear a size 7… a 6 1/2 on a good day, but on Wednesday night, I felt like I wore double that.

My friend invited me to the most amazing gym ever, Equinox, to join her as a guest for a little class called, “Zumba“.  Their tagline is “ditch the workout, join the party“… I’m in!

Well, this class was supposed to be for “all skill levels”.  Lies.  They should seriously put on the description, “if you don’t have rhythm, don’t even try stepping into the room” because I have no rhythm, whatsoever, and my clumsiness and stiffness was flat-out embarrassing.  Not to mention, both amusing and annoying for all those who were unfortunate enough to be in the class with me.

I always knew I was never a dancer, but come on!  They show 80 year-old women busting moves in all of the commercials.

False. Advertising.

Although I had a great (hilarious) time at Zumba, it unfortunately brought back some humiliating memories that date ten years back… of me, dressed up as a Dalmation (black nose… ears… the works), in a felt potato sack.  And honestly, I’m not sure that I can re-live those memories all over again.

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