Dear Zumba Class,
Thank you for kicking my ass.
Dear girl in the middle who dances like she is swatting away angry hornets:
Thank you for showing me how to dance with reckless abandon.
Dear older woman who can only manage to sway side to side but still keeps her eyes riveted to the instructor:
Thank you for teaching me that it’s never too late to start working on yourself.
Dear beautiful Latin lady up in front:
Thank you for showing me what comes with practice.
Dear extra fifteen pounds sitting on my thighs:
What the hell?
Dear Bad I-Sit-At-A-Desk-All-Day Posture:
I’m sorry for yelling at you. It’s just that I am so frustrated with you lately, what with the headaches and the gluten intolerance the creaky knees and the general malaise. Please know that I am working on treating you better. I can’t seem to shake the belief that you still have the energy and metabolism of your former 20-year-old self.
Dear Former 20-Year-Old Self:
Man, you are one lucky bitch.
I’ve got my eye on you. You think you’re going to creep on into my workout routine and just wear me down, but you’ve got another thing coming. It might take me a few tries, but I’m gonna get to the end of that one song and not feel defeated by you.
Dear Impatience with my own Body Mechanics:
See my note to Fatigue.
Contrary to what you want to believe, I DO know my left from my right.
Dear Brain that overthinks everything,
Please go do a crossword for an hour. I think Heart’s got this one.
Dear Self Criticism,
You’re such an asshole.
Please note Tuesday and Thursday evenings are NOT for working late. They are for dancing from now on.