Today’s steamy session left me satisfied, as usual.
It’s a Wednesday night thing. All day, I prepare myself for the sweating, panting and exhilaration. Then I get home, slip into something comfortable and assume the position.
When it’s time, we glide to Michael Jackson, Pitbull and Christina Aguilera. My moves aren’t as rusty as they once were. Now I can bend, turn and dip. There’s cheers when I do.
It lasts only an hour, but that’s perfect. I’m ready to shower and take over the world.
But first, I approach my Zumba instructor and say, “Was it good for you?”