Because a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do . . .

While all 38 Anglican Primates were beginning to gather in Alexandria, Egypt - some to work on the Anglican Covenant, others to work on the GAFCON agenda, and still others to work on getting formal approval for the new non-geographical province - I, in keeping with my resolve to be a healthier, fitter me in 2009, started a Zumba class yesterday.

Do you know about Zumba?

Let me describe it this way: It's like Salsa and Rumba on cocaine.

"Mercy, mercy, mercy please, have mercy on me."

Oh, and there are also a few movements that look very much like the frenetic sort of pelvic thrusts combined with chest lunges while your arms do a sort of boxing kind of move that Beyonce does.

Except, she looks very sexy when she does it. I, on the other hand, look rather like a crab on it's back having a grand mal seizure.

I do believe the last time I moved like that, I got pregnant.

I don't believe my face has ever been that shade of reddish purple. Ever. I know I've never felt the calves of my legs sweat like that. The calves of my legs! I'm talking dripping with sweat.

I was always taught that women shouldn't sweat. We should, rather, 'glisten'. Yeah, well, I passed that point about 15 minutes into the class. And, I quit worrying about it 20 minutes into the class.

The instructor is a riot. Cathy is her name. Mid to late 40s. Bawdy. Loud. Put a stained apron on her and she'd look like the butcher's wife. Got our attention by yelling, "Yo! Brooklyn in da house!"

She's what used to be delicately called "a full figured woman" - easily 30 pounds overweight - so I'm thinking, with this much exercise, she must eat like a truck driver. Tattoos up her right calf and every now and again, when her shirt rides up, you can see her impressive 'brat tat' - in full color.

When I got my brat tat in Hawai'i a few years ago, I had this great plan to have a lovely, leafy vine with four beautiful purple plumeria. Very feminine. Very Hawai'ian. An hour later, I got as far as the outline of the flower and vine but decided that I had better skip the color.

Jeezzeee, it hurt! Over the years, I have gotten ink in several places on my body, but nothing hurt as much as the one on my lower back. Nothing. So, when I saw Cathy's extensive brat tat, well, I was impressed.

I should have known it was a tip off to the pain she was going to inflict on us.

I came home, peeled off my stinky, sweaty clothes, took some Aleve right quick, and flopped onto the bed. This morning, I hurt in places I didn't know had muscles.

And, I gotta tell ya, I am totally hooked. Totally. I can't wait for my next class.

I know. I am 'loca', si? You betcha.

And, working hard on the fitter, healthier me.

If I don't kill myself trying.

Mercy!