I'm trying to keep my business, my triplets, and my waistline under control. I excel at one of those, fail at another one of those, and one is a work in progress. Which is which is day dependant.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

The Zumba Lady

We went to a party this afternoon and I met a woman who I'm affectionately going to refer to here on in as The Zumba Lady (TZL). TZL is someone who I've seen around the traps over the years, because apparently our children used to go to school together (not the foggiest idea who her kid is, of course...) and now our sons play basketball together.

She came over to talk to me - sat herself down, introduced herself, and started to chat ten to the dozen about various things. I was even willing to forgive her wearing a gym top to this nice afternoon event because I am the last person who should be judgemental about clothing choices. She seemed pretty nice, and friendly enough certainly - not nearly as stuck up as I'd assumed her to be all these years when she steadfastly ignored my existence. Things were going kinda okay in so far as I didn't immediately feel the need to race home and blog about her.

That you are reading a blog about her right this very second would seem to indicate that the conversation did not continue to go well.

It was somewhere between, "I'm a complete Zumba snob, I'm a member of (exclusive-sounding gym) which gives me the reciprocal rights to (list of other shmancy gyms) and I go around testing the teachers all out, I hate the lazy teachers who are not real dancers..." (insert 10 minute dissertation on her Zumba whoring) and her inviting me to be part of a 35-and-over female basketball team, "You're so tall and it can't hurt, you know." (insert looking me up and down in a less than complimentary fashion) that I pretty much decided she and I were not destined to be best mates and she was destined for blogging immortality.

The final nail in her friendship coffin was when she managed to make the words "bake cake" into dirty four letter words. "Oh, sorry, what? You do what? Oh, CAKE? You bake cake? As in you bake it YOURSELF? Just...as in...cake?"

I'm thinking I'm going to go along to her next over 35's basketball game just so I can sit on the sidelines in my non-approved Zumba outfit and stuff my face with...cake.

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