Tomorrow night my husband and I will attempt to trip the light fantastic at the first in a series of six dance classes. We are not the properly proportioned perfect dance couple at 6’1″ and 5’2″, respectively. The last time we took a structured dance class I made it a forced pre-wedding requirement but I had more to offer in ways of incentives back then.
While I was driving to Michael’s today (another post) and thinking about backing out, I heard an advertisement on the radio for the musical “Dirty Dancing” and my doubts were swiftly replaced with images of Patrick Swayze grinding in his tight black pants. Did I mention they were tight?
Once at my destination and happily in my zen of shopping I heard that Dirty Dancing song again over the loud speakers. You know it, “I’ve Had The Time of My Life.” For some reason I was no longer conjuring up Mr. Tight Black Pants but thought the universe might be sending a message that perhaps the time of my life might be just a twirl and quick step away waiting to happen and although I have no idea what to expect at this go around, I can tell you one thing for certain, no one puts Pink Martinis and Pearls in the corner! No one!
My hubby is such a terrible dancer – even lessons wouldn’t help him.