How Does Your Booty Pop?

This post is about Zumba, but first...

Daddy's home. Yay! We had lunch and then the entire family took a nap.

What did you think I meant when I said I was going to party on Friday? Dancing? Drinking? Hell no. Sleep, now that's a party. If I'm really feeling really randy, we might go see a movie and then... go back to bed.

I am a party animal. Hear me snore zzzzzz.

So, the live-in ectomorph babysat the toddler so I could go to the Zumba class and she was an absolute pill for him the entire time. When I came back, he made a run for his room, calling over his shoulder "I am NEVER having children."

Ah, I remember those days. I felt much the same when I was in my 20s and my brothers were in their toddler years.

And yet, here I am with a child. Who is driving me nuts. Thank God Daddy is home.

As for Zumba. Oh yeah, baby. It's like Dirty Dancing Goes to Mexico for Spring Break. Complete with hangover. My abs and back were pretty sore after a straight hour of bumping and grinding.

Also, I am booty pop impaired. Seriously impaired. I need help. Can you help me? Does your booty pop?

None of the moves were too difficult (other than those moments I was expected to booty pop at 60mph and walk at the same time while moving my arms in a graceful pattern). I didn't expect to be sore, but I was tight from doing squats the day before so I think that contributed to it.

I loved it. I loved the class too, which is taught by volunteers at a city rec center. Everyone makes a donation. There are like 60 people at the class and everyone is shaking their moneymaker--even men, some of whom were old enough to be Grandpas.

So I think I'm Zumbafied now. There's no going back.

PS: The mole stitches finally stopped hurting, but I have red itchy welts from the band-aids, so still sitting on my hands over here. The stitches are pretty ugly with lots of thread sticking out everywhere, I really do feel kind of Bride of Frankenstein.