When advertising works on me, it really works.
I’m an early riser. (That adage “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise” doesn’t apply to me. Early to bed and early to rise makes me useless and cranky after 8:00 p.m.)
While I’m doing chores early on the weekend, sometimes I surf the TV channel listing to see if there is a movie on that I like so I can have it on in the background as a distraction. Sometimes there is, sometimes there isn’t. When there isn’t, I broaden my surfing scope. There may have been 57 Channels and Nothin’ On in 1992 for Bruce Springsteen to watch, but in 2012 it’s more like 157 channels and nothin’ on.
On occasion, I end up selecting a channel with a TV Exercise infomercial. Over time, I got interested enough to look them up on the web. I checked out the DVDs and their ratings. Eventually I wondered if I should purchase a program and then I transitioned to asking myself which program did I think would work for me. (When advertising works on me, it really, really works. Shh, don’t tell anyone!)
After much internal debate (about 5 minutes), I realized there was no chance of me buying a DVD and standing in front of my TV for 20 minutes (or 30 or 60) each day. No chance; none. Hubby would snicker and the dogs would howl outright. There had to be another answer. Maybe going to a class? I like all kinds of classes: writing, watercolor, acrylics, sewing, quilting, agility, tracking, and yes, even exercise classes.
Most of the early morning exercise infomercials don’t have a structure that includes classes. But Zumba does. There are about a gazillion Zumba instructors out there.
After three Zumba classes, I have a few observations. One, I am sore. (ha ha ha, duh) I didn’t think I was a couch potato but it sure feels like it now. Two, I forgot to take water to my first class. Woo-wee, not making that mistake again! About half way through the class, I noticed a water cooler in the hallway. Between songs, I bee-lined myself over to it, as I did several other times during the class. At the end, I was considering trying to position my head so that my mouth was directly under the spout. I refrained — just barely — and used the conventional plastic cup they provided. (See, you can take me out in public.)
Also, I am not “bendy.” I confirmed this in the mirror that covered the whole wall. (There was no getting away from that mirror anywhere in the room.) Touching my toes in the warm up and cool down sessions? Surely you jest. Wiggle my upper body and my lower body, left and right, up and back? Not so much. I looked like a tree trunck with limbs blowing in the wind. The Ents from Middle-earth in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings are more limber than I am.
Are my elbows and hips supposed to know what the other is doing? Mine don’t. I could star in a movie titled “White Woman Can’t Dance.” But I’m going back. Turns out, they will let just anyone in, even me.