During the last days of work, they arranged a seminar for retiring people. We sat in a circle and a leader, probably a psychologist, was trying to prepare us for the day when the gates of the workplace, the place where we used to go every day for tens of years, will be closed for us from one day to the next. There will be no going in, no way back, and no getting up anymore early in the morning to go to work. The leader tried to motivate each of us to speak in turn and encouraged each of us to think about what we would do.
The Zumba promo says that Zumba is an easy and pleasant aerobic training that is based on the steps of Latin dance. No need for previous experience. “No need for previous experience” is good, it is me. I went to a nearby club and asked the coordinator if I could join a Zumba class. She replied that it may be a class for women only, she will check with the trainer and get back to me. She returned later and said that it is OK.
In the evening I arrived at a studio where there were about fifteen women and the trainer. The trainer was running around with a burst of a youth storm and appeared to be everywhere at the same time. I didn’t even know that such a person existed. She controlled any muscle of her body independently of the others, and drove any part of her body anywhere she liked to, and still had enough time to chat with some of the women.
The women knew the dance and moved rhythmically, with harmony, and with feminine charm. I was in the back, swinging like a barrel, a little bit to the right, a little bit to the left. Within five minutes I wanted to escape but felt uncomfortable leaving. I had specially asked to come and the trainer said OK. Somehow I continued, and when the class was over went to tell her that it is not for me. But she didn’t intend at all to listen. “You danced beautifully and you already progressed during the first session. Come next time.”
The next class was the same. Nothing changed, but when it ended one woman looked at me with amazing eyes and said: “All respect to you for doing it “. I didn’t understand, what respect? I was afraid that they will tell me, old fool, go away, and she talked about respect. Nevertheless, I stayed.
I left to another place, far larger, where there was a number of trainers, and each one of them was unique and represented a complete world. The first trainer that I already knew, the burst of youth, was there, and also one that danced with a lot of inner power. One simply danced beautifully with erotic expression with no competition, one danced super-Zumba with limitless energy, one was mischievous, and another one, her dancing expressed how life is happy, beautiful and fun to live. I felt great just by looking at her.
Many women and maybe two-three men are in the hall. A lot of noise, a lot of excitement. The trainers like to drive the people and themselves into ecstasy. “Move your tits”, “Shake it” – the trainer demonstrates, and all follow her with enthusiasm and passion. She catches with her eye someone with large breasts and says to her: “shake it, show what you have”. One time a trainer turned to me and said: “shake the bosom that you don’t have”. I tried to but wasn’t very successful. She gave me a look of a lot of mercy and said: “never mind, it will come with time”.
There is also a male trainer. He is a star, travels a lot and performs abroad. Whenever he is around he gives classes. I come and stand at the back, the proper place for me. But as more and more women come in, I am being pushed forward. When we start moving I find myself surrounded by stunning chicks, and all of them, as usual, move rhythmically with feminine charm. One quickly rotates her shoulders right and left, and swings her breasts just in front of my nose, and only I jump awkwardly and clumsily. A friend once asked if they look at me. No, they don’t look at me, they see through me. I see but am not seen.
Two years have passed and I am no longer a novice. I didn’t turn into a great dancer, barely a reasonable one. And again a lady said to me: “Well done, you train and keep in shape. My husband is a slowpoke”. Now I understood what the first woman said. Later in the evening, I thought that maybe it was an invitation, but I forgot who said that.
It is not all that bad to be retired.
Other stories: https://www.tale.co.il/author/urila
Translated from Hebrew.