I don’t really like board games. And I hate bowling.  Mini golf, go-karts racing, and the like… They bring out this intense, competitive creature that normally lies dormant inside of me, and she’s kind of a jerk, so I tend to avoid them like the plague.

But there’s another activity that fills me with this unexpected aggression that you’d never see coming.

When I go to a new Zumba class, I feel like I am at my first day in prison. I can’t help but assert myself as the baddest bitch in the class. My claps are loud, my hips are bootylicious, and my steps are huge.

And I wear shirts like this:

Come at me, bro.

With Arnold by my side, you better believe I was the boss of yesterday’s class.

(I’m a crazy person.)