FatGirl loves to criticize my dance moves so I decided to invite him to join me at Zumba. He eagerly agreed and sent me this message, “I will be honest I am fearful that everyone is going to hate me there. When everyone sees what a great dancer I am they are going to be sooo mad! I’m just going to have to dance my way into their hearts!!!!!” I knew immediately that this was going to be a great class.
About twenty minutes before class started FatGirl called, “I’m totally nervous.” “You’ll be fine,” I replied – I was wrong.
While Live Longer, Sleepless and I shook our groove things to the beat of the music, FatGirl squealed and complained from the back row, “Owwwww, you’re killing me.”
His lack of rhythm and balance remained consistent throughout the class. As it came to an end, however, his balance actually got worse. While we were all doing a form of tree pose, FatGirl wobbled about.
“I stand,” he started to say. “You were actually really struggling with standing,” I interrupted. “Shut up! As I was saying, I stand corrected – white girls can dance,” he said, then put his hand near my hair and asked, “What’s that in your hair?” With that he pulled my hair and said, “Oh, it’s my hand!”
Being that, unlike him, I’m balanced, I chose not to respond.