“There’s no class.”
I stared at the woman, fully decked out in hot pink and neon green. ”Huh?”
“There’s no zumba tonight.” She crinkled her nose, her lips curled like she bit into a lemon. ”Some kind of ab class.”
My shoulders sank. ”Are you serious?”
She nodded, reaching out her hand to a woman walking by. ”Hey! There’s no class!”
“No class?” The woman gasped. ”But…but there’s always class on Wednesday.”
“Tonight they’re doing something new. Ab class.” The woman wrinkled her nose again.
“I don’t need to do sit ups, I can do sit ups at home,” the second woman fumed. ”I need to dance!”
“There’s no class?” We turned towards a skinny young woman. Purple shadows ringed her eyes and dabs of white and yellow streaked across her stained shirt. ”You can’t be serious.”
“We’re serious.” The first woman relished her role as the bearer of bad news.
“But I have to dance!” The new mother’s eyes filled with tears. ”I can’t go back now–I can’t go back to dishes and diapers. I need to dance!”
“I can’t go back to the office,” the second woman groused, raising her heels in her hand.
“I work the graveyard shift. I’ve got to move.” The third woman shook her hips to demonstrate.
I pulled open my car door and turned the ignition key, rolling the windows down. ”So let’s dance.” Popping in a CD, I cranked up the dial as music filled the air.
“Here?” the first woman squeaked.
“Now?” The second woman glanced around.
“In the parking lot?” The third woman gasped. ”But people can see us!”
The new mother’s face lit up. ”Who cares?” she cried, wiggling her hips. ”Let’s dance!”
I joined her, shaking and shimmying and twirling across the asphalt. The other woman slowly joined in, stiffly swaying. A few songs later, they were tangoing across the parking spaces and doing hip hop in the alley. The new mom looked at me and grinned. ”You know what I love about dancing?”
“Losing baby weight?” I guessed.
“The way it makes me feel.” She beamed. ”Free and beautiful.”
“And that’s a whole lot cheaper than the high cost of liposuction!” another woman chimed in, laughing.
“And a lot more fun!” the second woman crowed.
“This is almost better than class!” the first woman cheered.
“And we didn’t have to pay for it,” the third woman cackled. As people drove past, grabbing dinner and dry-cleaning and groceries, we twirled and leaped and popped and locked.
For sometimes, you just have to dance.
Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! A new woman of the Pond mañana!
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