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Today was my next-to-last dance lesson which means tomorrow is the last one and then it's Friday and I'm in a blinged-up, tight dress shaking it in front of nearly 800 people. I know all I have to do is sell it but I'm not sure I can pull off looking confident while counting 1-2-34 in my head and trying to remember to put all the weight on my back leg and what my arms are supposed to do and when I bodyroll start with my head and point my toes and oh yeah SMILE!
I've never been one of those girls with a sexy walk or way of moving or even, if I'm totally honest, a sexy way of doing anything. You know how some girls look sexy just standing around breathing? Somehow that gene passed me by. And I've not done anything in my life so far that has forced me to take on a sexier persona - I managed to land a husband and have a couple kids by being cute, funny, and little bit bossy. So, now that I'm taking dancing lessons I'm being forced to confront my lack of sexiness. Today, for a good 20 minutes I was practically date-raping a pole at the dance studio trying to learn how to manipulate my body in a sexier manner. And my partner had to bring out Anastasia, The Queen of Wiggling, to show me how to do a move that most 4-year olds know how to do these days thanks to Dancing With The Stars and Miley Cyrus. Is there a pill I can take? A manual I can read? Somehow there has to be a way for me to learn how to do what 90% of the female population inherently knows. Or maybe I should just give up and buy a Tin Man costume to dance in because THAT's what I'm going to look like anyway.
God Bless Evan at Fred Astaire Dance Studio in Bloomfield Hills who, for some reason, believes that there is a Tiny Dancer in me fighting to get out. Somehow I am competing in two Dancing with the Local Stars-type competitions this fall and Evan has partnered me with Tino, the Best Dancer In The Whole Wide World (no, really, Google it, he's got about a million national titles) who I think will manage to manipulate me around the floor in some version of The Hustle that won't look too bad as long as I can remember where my feet go. Poor Tino. I told him my daughter is a figure skater and why he thought that mean that I have any skills I don't know but I assured him that there are no splits or back handsprings in my repertoire and he managed to look only mildly disappointed but did change our music from something funky and sexy by the Pussycat Dolls to Walk This Way by Aerosmith and Run DMC so I imagine I will be doing less dancing and more stomping around and gesturing like the World's Clumsiest And Unflamboyant Drag Queen. Or Kate Gosselin. Whichever mental image works for you.
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