Fear not, Bebe Neuwirth. I am NO Triple Threat.

As you may know, I've been a stage performer for most of my life.  I've done oodles of musicals, comedies, and even a few dramas.  I've taken classes and worked with some brilliant directors, and I've always considered myself something of a theatrical "jack of all trades."  I mean, my singing is nothing to brag about, but my acting has it's moments and my dancing gets me by... at least that's what I THOUGHT...

Until I tried Zumba.

After being on a steady streak of running 3-4 times a week I decided that my workout routine needed a little variety.  A friend of mine, we'll call her Jane, told me that she was planning on trying a zumba class at our local gym.

This friend, Jane, does not pride herself on being a dancer and claims she is not at all coordinated.  She, apparently, asked me to go to the class with her because she thought, "Surely Miriam will be good at this.  She does all that theatery stuff with dancing and will probably will be the star of the class."  Let's be honest... that's more or less what I thought too.   I mean, I tangoed in a cat suit and the audience LOVED it!

So I woke up on this fateful Saturday morning, picked out a cute outfit threw on some gym clothes, and ran off bright-eyed and a little bit cocky.

I get to class and the place is packed.  I look around to survey my competition:  a few middle-aged ladies, a couple of chubby ones, some people that just look boring, and me (oh and Jane).   The teacher comes over and introduces herself and asks if we'd ever done zumba before.  I say no (trying to be demure) and she tells me "not to worry if you make mistakes" and "just take it slow and have fun."  I'm thinking..."Pssssssht. Lady you have no idea who you're dealing with."

Then the music starts.

Then the choreography starts.

And did I mention the teacher put tassels in her pants?

And I'm faced with my own reflection in the giant wall of mirrors. 

Now, you would imagine my surprise when I realized that, though in my head I dance like this.....

In reality, it's much much more like this...

OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!  

Have I always been a bad dancer?   Where did these spaghetti arms come from?  Why is my center of gravity so awkwardly high?  How come I can't shake my booty AT ALL? 

Wait...where IS my booty??

And why are all these boring middle-aged nobodies so much better than me?  

And, you, teacher lady, with your tassels and your sequined top, stop giving me those "you're getting it" nods and those "nice try" thumbs up.  I don't need your pity.  I'm a STAR.   I TANGOED IN A CAT SUIT!

I managed to make it through the entire hour of humiliation with my head [moderately] held up high.  But every samba was a heartbreak and every salsa was a knife through my ego.  How can I ever put myself out there again?  How can I ever stand on a stage, with those lights and an audience, knowing that THIS is what I look like when I dance?

Because it is fucking hilarious. 

And I love a good laugh.