Monday, March 04, 2013

Fake it till you Make it
 
I woke up with that groundhog's day sensation that It was all starting all over again, and, unfortunately, I was right. Round 2 of the intestinal flu. The good news is that F and T don't have it. I spent the whole morning dozing and moaning and aching and freezing and then it was time for work. I have no idea how I didn't throw up. I asked Nicholas to keep his eyes open for me because I was worried about fainting on the stage, and when I walked into the room it was on unsteady legs. And not just because Nicholas was basically naked again in the dressing closet. The new zumba teacher who was hired right before I was introduced me to her class. I am going to go out on one of my short limbs and say that her name is Claudia, but I'm not sure.

 She was substitute teaching the lesson before mine and she said that not only would she try out my class but she would convince several of her reluctant and already sweaty students to do the same. It is always nerve wracking to teach a teacher, but today especially. This teacher is the woman who is a good foot taller than me and is featured next to me on the oh so beige poster. She is a long cool drink of Uruguayan water and she can zumba like nobody's business. She left early from my lesson, but later she told me it was because she got hungry. I am glad that she eats as I am convinced most of my female coworkers do not. It was not easy getting the students on board for this lesson, but I felt better as the lesson went on and was able to keep the majority of them motivated. Later in the supply closet that doubles as our dressing room, Claudia told me that on Mondays I am supposed to be asking for la news where I will fill in my classroom statistics and get any letters for the instructors. I asked her if Lanews was a person, but she just looked at my pitifully and repeated slowly and loudly la "news" is the news. Ah okay, another cute borrowed term from my native tongue. Gotcha. I forgot to do it anyway. I figure until I get told officially, I can keep acting clueless.


It was a blessed relief to hear Claudia complain about our boss and how he never tells us anything. So true! She doesn't have an official outfit yet either. I need every ounce of confidence I can get for this crazy scene so I explained last night to the Victoria's Secret saleslady in Virginia that I needed all my new workout wear shipped to Italy. Even she seemed to think that I was probably missing something. There must be an easier way, her tone implied. Sadly, there is not one decent workout outfit to be found in this whole region. Unless you like baggy and beige. One of my clients is already bringing me back pajamas from the US store, but I didn't want to trouble her with a bunch of extra requests. There are no decent pajamas without cartoon characters on them here, either. There goes this month's paycheck, but since I don't wear any real clothes anymore I suppose I will save money on those.



Anyway, Claudia told me that she had prepared a fantastic flamenco zumba lesson only to be told last minute that she has to teach FAME dance which is not a real thing, but just an invention of our boss' imagination. She asked me to collaborate with her, but I told her I'd help her behind the scenes, if anything. I have all the music to Fame, but I don't want to go head to head with somebody who counts out choreography for a living and is going to realize that I don't. It was also comforting to hear that she has to practice ten hours to really memorize the material for each lesson of zumba in order to get the cueing down and since they only pay her to work two hours a week and is under an exclusive contract it is really not worth her while to choreograph something from Fame which is not even her style. Maybe if I had been feeling more adventurous and less nauseous I would have stepped up, but I probably would have regretted it afterwards, so just as well. Both Claudia and Alice have perfectly ripped mid-sections and I had the intestinal flu tummy bloat that comes from only being able to eat white foods so I went out to the windy bus stop with all my sweaty and unfashionable workout clothes stuck to me as to avoid further pitying.

Cristiano felt my biceps two times on each side and took the bus home with me. I was ecstatic to have survived the day.

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