Clumsy

So, last month, we started doing Zumba classes at the gym. I kept thinking, the first two weeks, I should write some silly little piece about how terribly clumsy and uncoordinated, how absolutely awful I was at it--you know, quick, before I got really good.

Um ... dream on, me-of-the-past.

Okay, so, yeah, definitely been at this for over a month now, and definitely still chronically about one and one third beat behind the rest of the class, still the gaping dope struggling to catch on, even when all the instructor is doing is marching in place. "C'mon, dummy--left, right, left, right--no, your other right! How can it be that hard?" Once I finally get the hang of some step, I cannot allow my mind to wander even for a moment, or else all is lost, and suddenly, I'm just standing there, looking like a complete idiot, as everyone else moves gracefully, all together, in perfect sync, or so it seems to me.

I blame it on my autism spectrum non-disorder. (Because even with the supposed over-diagnosis of autism spectrum disorders, people like me, without a disorder at all, continue to slip through the cracks.) It's all about having a one-track mind--being able to block out external stimuli, finding the world at large to be overwhelming, shutting it all out, except a small, manageable bit.

But more specifically, related to my utter ineptitude at Zumba, it's about only being able to think about one thing at a time. If I try to do the footwork, I can't manage the arm/hand motions. Even once I get the hang of the leg part, if I try to add the arms, it just all goes to pieces.

This is also why I am the world's second worst driver. "Oh dear God," I hear you say, "Someone out there is a worse driver than Virgie?!" Indeed. The world is not safe.