I don’t know exactly what happens to women after they give birth, but I think we become very brave. We think we can do anything and somehow forget there are some things we can’t do. After I had my two bowling balls, caught bile in my bare hands and changed diapers while half asleep, I started to think I had super powers.
Childbirth, as far as I know, can catapult a woman into becoming a great mother. It happened to me. Childbirth, as far as I know, does not make one a great dancer or confer rhythm or somehow make you shake your hips to the beat. You know, like, if before you had kids you couldn’t dance, you probably won’t be able to dance after you have kids.
I ought to know. I’ve tested the theory. The result is the same. I can’t dance.
I am uncoordinated. I miss beats. I have two left feet. I couldn’t dance my way out of a paper bag if my children’s lives depended on it. So, why did I sign up for Zumba?
I thought it would be fun. I was right. I’ve had a wonderful time in class. I thought it would help tone my body. I was right. It’s a wonderful workout. I thought I’d love music. Right again. I simply forgot I might have to do a lot of dancing.
Needless to say, I have been embarrassing myself in class. The teacher goes right; I go left. My classmates shake, shimmy, step; I step, shimmy, shake. No problem, I thought, these women don’t know me. Then our teacher wanted us to share our first names. If I had any sense, I would have yelled out Honeysmoke. But no, I gave them my real name. I fear the other students talk about me after class. Did you see the skinny black woman who can’t catch a beat? Who does she think she is? I have prepared an answer. I’m a mom, I plan to say. I forgot there are some things I can’t do. I’m so sorry.