devonly randomonium

Sugar-coated effery and shenanigans.

Zumba Groupies, You Gets No Love From Me

on March 16, 2011

I heart Zumba. It’s a great way for non-Pussycat Dolls like me to shake our hips and sometimes drop it like it’s hot. I attended my first Zumbathon a couple of years ago and decided that since I didn’t die after three hours of shimmying, spinning and shuffling, I would stick with it. I enjoy hearing Latin music along with hip hop and some pop during class. I also enjoy being among regular women and laughing with them as we try to figure out all of the steps. But what I don’t enjoy are the screaming banshees in the front of the class. I call these broads “Zumba Groupies (ZGs).”

Now I’ve attended Zumba classes at different gyms before and I know there are the Zumba enthusiasts. These are the women, and sometimes men, that wear their Zumba tees, bracelets or sweatbands to class and yell out “eye ya ya ya,” during routines. And that’s cool because they’re really feeling it. But the ZGs in my regular class are another story.

Example of a ZG...hope I don't offend this lady.

Source: Zumba Fitness NJ

I have never seen such Zumbasity (I just made that up) in my life. First of all, these chicks come to class dressed like extras from the Zumba infomercial. They wear the cargo pants or cargo capris with bright-colored Zumba tags on them, bedazzled Zumba shirts, headbands, spray tans, sunglasses and much more. Then during class, they like to bust out their freestyle routines or dance up on each other like those drunk chicks at the club that are trying to get guys to notice them. The other thing they like to do is shriek during songs. And don’t let a Brittney Spears song come on because blood might spurt out of your ears!

To the ZGs in my class, I’m glad you know all the routines since you make a point to go to every class taught by our instructor, but could you please take all of your commotion to the back of the class? Me and the rest of the normal people can’t see the steps when you all are acting like 16-year-olds at a Justin Bieber concert. And if you decide to come after me during the next class, I’ll be ready for you. All I have to do is throw some Zumba rubber bracelets on the floor and turn on some Brit Brit. Then it’s exit, stage left for me!


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