Zumba De Doo Dah

Ok, so I wasn't the oldest person in the class (but a close second) and thankfully not the largest either (again close second) but the point was me and my new sparkly shoes were there, on time and ready to spring into action.
I was at my first ever Zumba class, in a desperate attempt to at least try out all my New Year's Resolutions before the end of the month. (Not sure if enough time to lose 50lbs but we'll see). I carefully matched the shoes with black leggings which make me look like Max Wall (if you don't know who he is, then Google him alongside eccentric British music hall acts of the 20th century). My top half was covered in a black t shirt with "I am a PC" on the front, which I believe stands for Phat Cow.
It goes without saying that Elizabeth, our instructor, was young, super fit and lovely. I expect she Zumbered her way all the way to the studio.
Having had some experience of excerise classes, I know my place. Right at the back of the room. The problem with this is it's tricky to keep an eye on the instructor. If you think about it, she's the one to watch, because by the time half a dozen people line up vertically behind her, her moves are so plagiarized I'm copying a monkey with St Vitas Dance. Or I could be looking the mirror, not sure which.
I did actually make it to the end of the class, although it's amazing how slow bouncing about to Latin rhythms can be when you have a huge clock in front of you. By the end I was so good that not only was I almost following at least half of the steps, but I was doing some even before Elizabeth did, although that could just be because I was still trying to catch up from the previous routine....