Zumba!

As I have previously mentioned I am trying to get that stubborn baby weight off. My initial efforts were thwarted by that pesky arthritis (not to mention a month long trip to America, land of the gluttony). I was told that breastfeeding was the weight loss messiah, that I could gain a near skeletal appearance by doing nothing more than putting Charlotte to the breast (not to say that Angelina Jolie's physique is something that I am striving for, but the idea of that was certainly enticing). Needless to say, though I was lucky in the labor time department, I was unlucky in the Skeletor-meets-the-boob department.

In my pre baby life I was a very regular jogger and would log 45 minutes 5 times a week without fail. I also lifted weights twice a week. This seemed to keep me in a happy range, and I am a huge advocate of monotony in exercise - as long as it is efficient. This go around I am trying to be a bit more aggressive - so I am doing cardio 5 days a week, doing Body Pump (think aerobics meets weight training) twice a week, and doing the Power Plate twice a week (which basically is a bunch of pilates moves on a vibrating plate). Although I think I am seeing results it is hard when you look at your endomorph self day in and day out. More than anything I have been sore at least 2 days a week. Although it hasn't been the most comfortable it certainly has felt like I am doing something. The unexpected upside of this routine is that my arthritis seems to be better with exercise - though I am not back in my best push up and dip form thanks to my wrists.

My morning routine is a bit out of whack as I am not getting up as early as I used to - so I am starting my runs around 8 and that is just too darn hot in the relentless heat that is Singapore. So I am trying to be a bit more creative with my cardio. I have an issue with the treadmill - something I link directly to my ego bruising fall on one at the Excelsior Hotel in Hong Kong in early 2004. So at the gym this morning I did Zumba for the first time.

Zumba is an aerobic (read: simplified for the bourgeois moms who take aerobics - o wait a minute, that is me) class that is spiced up with Latin and African music and dance. I thought this would be a good fit for me since I believe I am a decent dancer (a spillover from my stint twenty years ago on my high school drill team) and I love Latin music. Our instructor Rhomeiny was inevitably from the Philippines as they are the only Asian country where the people have any rhythm whatsoever. I had many 'I am a rap star' and 'I am Shakira' moments. There were pelvic thrusts, a small but enduring throwback of competence from my drill team days. Overall though I knew I looked like a doofus, sporting my stretched out Astro Boy tank top (which Matt wanted me to throw out precisely 4 years ago when I bought it).

I wanted to befriend the Caucasian girl in front of me, but she was too uncoordinated and taking way too much surface area and I was too catty at that point to make a (verbal) move. I shirked away from her aqua bodysuit and her flailing limbs.

After several Latin/African songs (that Shakira song would probably qualify for both) Rhomeiny (do you think that rhymes with hominy?) previewed a beat of the next song. The room squealed as it was the Wonder Girls "Nobody." The watered down routine was way harder than the video indicates (or my hand-eye coordination is down several notches). At the end of the song everyone (the fellow moms huddled in the back with their extra belly love and the cliquish gym rat fiftysomethings in the front who were way too old to be sporting lace/lycra/belly rings) cheered. I concluded Rhomeiny was gay or just... Asian.

I made no friends, but I sweated my AstroBoy tail off.

It was awesome.

I will be back, after I watch that "Nobody" video on youtube about a dozen times.