If there is such a thing, we've got it.
Some friends of ours started going to this little place in South Tucson. It's not the best part of town and once you head south on 6th it's as if you crossed the border into Mexico. What better place to go to experience Zumba, a latin inspired dance/exercise class, than South Tucson. It's in a little room behind a Mexican restaurant. And it's cheap. But boy do these ladies dance!
Walking through those doors, it's like my sister and I are going to a foreign country. Everyone stares. What are those white girls doing here? We're here to dance. To learn through pain and sweat. I don't have too many curves and I feel kind of hopeless that I will ever learn to shake what little I have. The instructor is yelling out instructions in Spanish. She spouts out a speech about trying not to laugh at the gringos. It's their first time here. Maybe they will catch on. She could be saying that or she is giving a pep talk to get ready for the next dance. We wouldn't know the difference. Then she looks at us and says a few words, "We're gonna do this..." Five minutes of instructions in Spanish, then she looks at us, "Ok?" We try to laugh when others laugh and yell out when they yell out. It's an adventure. It's how we like to do things. If we are completely comfortable, we aren't learning anything about new cultures and dance, mostly dance. It's not too hard to follow along. We've joined the party and we don't want it to stop.
Who wouldn't like to dance with no inhibitions, not a care in the world, no feelings of being self conscious, because you are in a room full of women who have some serious curves wearing little skirts that are shiny and chime as they sway back and forth. And dancing. Time doesn't even matter when you're dancing.
When it's all over and you are dripping with sweat, you look disgusting but feel amazing. You go across the street to the little Mexican restaurant for fresh horchata, fish tacos, and girl talk.
Zumba fever. Yup.
And the only cure. More cowbell.