Alpha Pi Sweat

I've decided my dance studio is like a sorority.
(Not that I ever was in a sorority but I can imagine what one must be like).

You know how high schools had cliques?  And even within a clique there were roles, like even reality TV will have certain character types; the bitch, the gay guy, the girl who cries for no reason, the rich snob, the thug, the romantic lead and so on? 

Well, my sorority role a la Diva Den is the funny, loud girl.
And I'm totally embracing my role.


Fitness classes make women nervous. 

The big girls are busy sucking in their guts thinking the skinny bitches won't notice their bulges.
And the fit girls are so concerned with outshining one another that they almost never remove their gazes from their own reflections for fear it will decrease their IN-TEN-SI-TY.
The girls whose size is a moot point because their inability to step from side to side with a fragment of grace are cowering in the dark corners of the dance room.

And me?
I am hooting and hollering and laughing as loud as the teacher is screaming at us to kick HIGHER!
I seem to be the only gal there who is not taking herself seriously AT ALL.
And the teachers all LOVE ME!

I thought it was just the Samba teacher at first.
She is this curvy black woman whose figure is to die.
(Seriously, if my ass and stomach looked as fantabulous as hers I would never wear a shirt and would go everywhere clad only in booty shorts and a push up bra).
Her classes involve a ton of booty shakin' and while most women shy away from such down and dirty get low swagger I always am either laughing at her or cheering her on.
She was the first teacher to tell me she loved having me in class.
She even told the receptionists I had great energy and yelled, I love her!  in the middle of my first Samba class.
I'm not gonna lie.
I beamed a little with pride. 
It was like having the popular girl in school tell you your dress was pretty. 
Weeeeeee!

But since then I have managed to win over several other teachers who laugh at my inappropriate jokes and tell me how fun I make their classes.  It seems I'm not the only one glad I'm there.  Tonight the energy-never-wanes Zumba teacher told me she loves how I always laugh because that is what she is trying to get us all to do, just laugh and have fun.  The woman who teaches the Sssh! class (AKA the let's-try-and-dance-like-a-stripper-except-we-all-can't-because-who-knew-those-hoochies-actually-possess-mad-skill-to-move-like-they-do? class) thinks I'm hillarious because I moan and groan the loudest at what she CLAIMS we can all do.  The move I'm determined to nail she calls 'Pushing the peanut' which basically consists of slowly lowering your torso towards the ground while arching your booty nicely in the air and then reversing it.
I, unable to move as she instructed voiced my concern. 

Um, why can't I move backwards? I asked. 

Because our triceps are our weakest muscles and you're pulling all your body weight with them so get your ass in the air and MOVE! 

Oh, right, I think, is that all?  I attempt it a couple times and sort of only half fail once after which point I turn my head and look over to the girl to my left as incapable as I and just shake my head and give her the I don't think so eyebrow.  She laughs and we both collapse on our now shaky arms.

The only teacher I doubt would vote me on her Prom Court is the Pilates instructor.  Because Pilates is serious business and so she ignores my commentary.  I understand though because Pushing the peanut might be challenging while looking sexy but Pilates is the only class where making tiny circles with one leg for 8 reps can cause an entire class to start moaning because our rears and thighs are simultaneously ON FIRE.

So Pilates teacher is like the Sorority president.
Because she has to be a little icy and a little distant to make sure we all stay in line and follow the rules.
In her case the rules are focus, tighten your core and BREATHE.

Because for some reason we all, curvy, shy, veteran or LOUD, always forget to exhale.
But we certainly have the grunting and sweating down pat.
At least I do.