You know the movie, Bambi? Remember that scene where he was trying to balance on ice? Well imagine Bambi had the grace of an elephant and the dance moves of Ricky Gervais, then you will get somewhere close to picturing how I looked when attending my very first zumba class.
My friends had been concerned that the only exercise I had been getting was from lifting my right hand to my mouth to drink wine. Purely for this reason (and not at all because they wanted a good laugh) they decided it was time to kick my butt into shape.
After having all twenty-five of my excuses destroyed I reluctantly invested in a sports bra; I had to think of the safety of the other ladies attending. Maybe this would be a good thing, give me a little more energy and exercise my mind, which in turn would help my creative flow and my writing.
The lady taking the class greeted us on arrival and asked if we had any medical conditions she should know about. I told her I was allergic to exercise, had two left feet and no rhythm.
‘Don’t you worry,’ she told me. ‘We will soon teach you coordination and rhythm’.
Now I didn’t want to put down her skills as a zumba teacher, but a twenty week intensive dance training course with John Travolta is not going to teach me coordination or rhythm.
So I smiled and did the best I could, wearing an expression on my face throughout the class similar to the one I expect Mr Ben had the first time he put on a fancy dress outfit and headed through the secret door.
The only thing I was doing in common with the other people in the room was breathing, but I approached it enthusiastically and waved my arms and legs around like a demented octopus, and I ache in lots of places I didn’t know you could ache, so at least I got some exercise.
Tomorrow I expect to be doing my very best impression of John Wayne.