Bam.

Today I went to Sh'Bam class. Do you know Sh'Bam? It's basically dance aerobics, sort of like its much more popular cousin, Zumba.

See? I wore my orange shirt and pink belt today. Just like usual.

I'm pretty sure Sh'Bam was created to capitalize on the huge success of Zumba. It's like those knockoff perfumes..."If you like Chanel no 5, you'll love Regina 11." Or something like that.

But it's a fun class. I have no real sense of rhythm, and my dancing is about what you'd expect from someone of my age, demographic, and ethnic heritage. Okay, perhaps slightly worse than that. But I figure, as long as I'm moving, and my heart rate is up, and I'm not tearing any ligaments or wetting myself, it's all good.

The instructor kept up a steady stream of chatter through her little headset microphone. Impressive in itself. In between telling us what moves were coming up, she sang the song lyrics, asked us if we bet on the Melbourne Cup, and pontificated on why, if he liked it then he didn't put a ring on it. You get the idea.

Then, in the midst of this side step move where we were supposed to be moving our hips in a circular motion, she took it to a whole 'nother level. She was trying to get us to do the move properly, and she said, "Imagine that you have a wooden spoon stuck up your bottom and that you are trying to stir a pot with it."

Internet, I promise you that she said those things. Those words were processed by my brain and I'll never be the same again. As vivid an image as that may be, I didn't really want to have to imagine it. Although, I have to admit, it was rather illustrative of what she wanted us to do.

I'm just not sure I'm ready to commit to the move at that level. Okay, fine! You've forced me to be honest. Not thinking about the spoon after someone tells you to think about the spoon is an impossible task! I defy you to say otherwise!! And okay, it did help. But still!! Still.

And now I've shared this with you. Yeah, sorry about that.