On Sunday, I decided to give Zumba a shot. I went to class on Monday and Tuesday, and I planned to go this morning. I woke up on time. I got dressed. I walked out the door, heading to a Zumba toning class. Then, I turned around.
I talked myself out of it!
I enjoyed the first two days of Zumba. I really did. I know it burned calories and caused me to break a sweat, but I am the most uncoordinated person. (I break every stereotype about black people and dancing.) In the past, all dancing I've participated in involved lots of vodka, but liquid courage probably would not be a good idea in this case. (Or would it? No, it definitely would be disastrous. Damn!)
I'm sitting at home, beating myself up for not going to class, and I almost burst into tears. I was having a full meltdown about Zumba. Why? I can't tell you. Maybe I'm sensitive. Maybe I'm dramatic. Maybe I'm just a "strange little man." (Please see Toy Story if you're unfamiliar with this reference.) Maybe it's because no one can bring me to tears like I can. In any case, it is not that serious.
One day of lost courage is not worth ripping myself to shreds and discounting my progress. I had to remind myself to calm the fuck down, have a laugh at my expense, and carry on. I'm about to go to the gym, get on a stationary bike, give it all I have, and be proud of myself for not wasting this morning. And, I will be back in Zumba on Friday horrifying the friendly class who's probably not horrified at all.
P.S.
Have a good morning of being kind to self!
