When a 'lady of great proportion' took the place of my usual stick-thin zumba instructor tonight, I thought, "Here we go. It's gonna be a SLOW class tonight." (Hey, it's a reasonable assumption.) She was a loud, confident American woman named Renata who, contrary to my cold calculation, could shake it with the best of em and just so happened to rock.. my.. world.
Firstly, she abused the new swarm of teenage brats for their typical tendency to cluster in the back of of the class: "I know you all have magnets in your bras that make you stick to the wall, but you need to move your butts up here where I can see you!" Unfortunately, the teeny boppers loved her nevertheless and are bound to show for another round. (Stay outta my class, giggling, squealing fools who I was once like [and still am like, but I can't see how that's relevant] but no longer care for!)
Lady Renata had us screaming and grunting and kept such a straight face throughout her bold, thrusting routines that it was hard not to take it seriously, too. We gave it all we had, our faces ever-smiling to contrast her deadly expression, because we were having so much fun.
Despite her loud voice, Renata didn't need to speak, commanding instead with her body (which was, interestingly, much easier to trust and follow than the regular flimsy instructions, "Ok, girls, now in 1, 2, tee hee hee!"). This woman was so tough and awesome, her signature closing move was to slam her fists out to either side, as though crushing skulls. It was very tribal. She made my regular teacher, who also dances in cheesy musicals and almost certainly thinks she's living one, look like a girl scout trying to teach sex to hookers. She made us feel like goddess, amazon, champion women who laugh at men and their stupid weiners.
She even made the cool down fun by beginning it as another dance (the first move being a fuckin awesome Saturday Night Fever pointing pose!), and sneaking in some stretches. Wow...
Simply put, [CAUTION: the following line is DISGUSTING. You have been warned, so don't come bitching to me] Renata - I think I wanna have your fist babies. Ahahaha!
Nah, but seriously.. Respect, girlfriend. And thanks.
Firstly, she abused the new swarm of teenage brats for their typical tendency to cluster in the back of of the class: "I know you all have magnets in your bras that make you stick to the wall, but you need to move your butts up here where I can see you!" Unfortunately, the teeny boppers loved her nevertheless and are bound to show for another round. (Stay outta my class, giggling, squealing fools who I was once like [and still am like, but I can't see how that's relevant] but no longer care for!)
Lady Renata had us screaming and grunting and kept such a straight face throughout her bold, thrusting routines that it was hard not to take it seriously, too. We gave it all we had, our faces ever-smiling to contrast her deadly expression, because we were having so much fun.
Despite her loud voice, Renata didn't need to speak, commanding instead with her body (which was, interestingly, much easier to trust and follow than the regular flimsy instructions, "Ok, girls, now in 1, 2, tee hee hee!"). This woman was so tough and awesome, her signature closing move was to slam her fists out to either side, as though crushing skulls. It was very tribal. She made my regular teacher, who also dances in cheesy musicals and almost certainly thinks she's living one, look like a girl scout trying to teach sex to hookers. She made us feel like goddess, amazon, champion women who laugh at men and their stupid weiners.
She even made the cool down fun by beginning it as another dance (the first move being a fuckin awesome Saturday Night Fever pointing pose!), and sneaking in some stretches. Wow...
Simply put, [CAUTION: the following line is DISGUSTING. You have been warned, so don't come bitching to me] Renata - I think I wanna have your fist babies. Ahahaha!
Nah, but seriously.. Respect, girlfriend. And thanks.
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