I went to the Zombie Zumba-thon at the Kress Events Center tonight. The flier they handed me two weeks ago promised fun for all and encouraged people to show up in costume. It even promised they’d do the Thriller dance. How could I miss out on that? And so I marked my calendar and waited for the fated day to come.

I decided I wouldn’t wear a costume…how could I possibly zumba in that hot room wearing a costume and be comfortable?! Maybe I’d wear a costume… No, I didn’t feel like figuring out a costume… I could wear kitty ears? But then would I have to deal with whiskers? And I don’t have a tail. Nah, no costume, I wouldn’t be comfortable.

By the time this morning rolled around, I was beginning to have my doubts about even going. The latin-beat exorcise—I mean, exercise—festivities wouldn’t begin until 7:30…I’d have to dawdle for 3hrs after work… Whatever, I’ll pack a gym bag just in case. Screw the costume…

And so it was that I dawdled. I’m good at that, you know. I can entertain myself for hours doing nothing. It’s so weird. If I ever get put into solitary confinement, I’ll do just fine. Just don’t ask me to sit still, or be quiet—I’m not stealthy. So if I ever really were surrounded by zombies, they’d find me right away—but that’s neither here nor there. Time got away from me, as it often does. I looked at the clock and low and behold, the zumba hour was upon me.

I readied myself for a rigorous flailing by securing my hair in two bun-like puff balls perched on either hemisphere of my cranium. I still wore my specs, and I donned some mid-calf gray sweats and an Allouez Girls Softball t-shirt (my prize for designing their logo). As I waited in the aerobics room, I observed the young bodies that surrounded me…wearing their smart little costumes and I realized I looked like hell compared to them. But whatever, this wasn’t about me…it was about ZUMBA! And…fulfilling my lifelong dream of doing the Thriller dance with a large willing group of people!

And so, I enjoyed the costumes around me. And I danced to Thriller…and it was all very fun and amazing. I felt a little weird being there alone, but oh well. And the Thriller dance was fun. I sorta botched it a little bit. If I ever have an opportunity to do it again, I will put some effort into studying the Thriller choreography before hand. Zumba feels very random to people who are unfamiliar with it (i.e. me). They don’t call out the next move like they would in your standard group exercise class. It’s pretty unpredictable. So my inaugural Thriller dance was not executed with the precision I had hoped for. Although, I was so sweaty, red and stumbling by that point, I probably looked like a real zombie.

When we stopped for a break, I stood awkwardly sipping my water and clearly heard one of the college guys in the class say “Are you Chelsea’s mom?” I ignored it…clearly he was re-telling a story to the people around him. But no, he persisted, “Are you Chelsea’s mom?” Obviously directed at me. I was aghast and could only sputter, “I’m not ANYONE’S mom!” He realized his mistake and said, “Oh, I thought you were Chelsea’s mom.”

This is what I get for trying to zumba with a crowd that’s a decade my junior…each probably no less than 50lbs lighter than me. I found it difficult to thrash about with quite the same enthusiasm after that. At the next break, I asked him, “Do I really look like somebody’s mom?” The young man apologized for his mistake explaining that sometimes Chelsea’s mom would come to the Kress. That didn’t make me feel any better. He said he didn’t intend to hurt my feelings. Okay, maybe a little better. But what I didn’t ask the was burning question—is Chelsea’s mom hot?

And so…my costume for the evening was Chelsea’s mom. Seriously. Do I really look old enough to have a college-aged daughter? I’ll need to re-consider my appearance before I do zumba at the Kress again.