Week 57- grown up Zumba, sports bras and Man in The Mirror

I am a 34 year old mum who goes to keep fit classes wearing stained t-shirts and glasses.

And it kills me a little bit.

When Nancy and I went to the baby Zumba class together, it was ace. I could keep up with the routines, kind of. I knew the music, well who doesn’t know Tina’s Rolling on the River?

And to top it off, two of the mum’s had asked me if I’d taken dance classes before.

That’s all the confidence boost I needed to be convinced, that, yes, Zumba was the sport for me. And that, in months, if not weeks, Nancy would no longer be able to knead my tummy like dough.

So it was a bit of a shocker when Ulrika and I turned up to grown up Zumba, and it was like watching a fitness video on fast forward.

The first challenge was the routine. Now, I'm no Darcey Bussell, I did get an A in dance A level, mind, (who takes dance A level?), but suffice to say that this was a whole new realm of moves.

With boob shaking, early 80's whooping, and samba legs going all over the shop, all to full on Brazilian music, it was worlds away from the gentle dance off we'd done at mum and baby Zumba.

It was a bit of awake up call. I'm at the back of a Zumba class unable to keep up what I thought was really complicated, fast steps, but turns out to just be the warm up.

The second challenge was the wall length mirror.

 I genuinely didn’t recognise myself to start with.

As I scanned the slim, young women, searching for my reflection, I was more than a bit surprised to see myself in an oversized red and white stripy nighty, and the glasses I wear for driving. It was like looking at a middle aged Where's Wally. When did this happen?  When did I swap camps from ticking the 20- 30 category, to the 34- retired?

I was never uber trendy. But I think I used to be passable. When Ben and I were in Thailand, a hippy told us we were the coolest people he’d ever met. I think he was on drugs at the time, but still.

And now I'm closer in style, age and dance moves, to the middle-aged women who click their fingers or swing their arms when the routine cranks up, instead of the svelte, bendy sixth formers.

I don't want to be the mum that Nancy cringes at at weddings, when I start doing my Man in The Mirror impression, or know the whole Ice Ice Baby rap.

So. it's time to man up. Knuckle down. Buy a sports bra. And learn the routines.

Otherwise I might as well throw in the towel, and join the over 60's water aerobics class.