it wasn’t you
it was the giant girl with the giant hair down to her backside
it was the girl who primped for an hour
trying to redeem something she couldn’t find in a mirror
for some reason that girl wore heels too, six feet plus
but later in the dark
stripped of the night’s magic
and several gin & tonics
come daylight, she was still an amazon
but a plain one
This ‘lovely’ image has made its way around a post or two. Geez, good thing we grow up. Now, I think if I saw this girl coming at me, I’d run in the opposite direction. Luckily, the hair and the girl eventually learned how to relax and both managed a boundful leap into adultness. Today, she tells her kiddies the very same…
Going out the other night and observing some ‘dancerinas’ made me think back to a time when my demeanor wasn’t what it is today (I pray today it can be classified as somewhat thoughtful). My obnoxious 1980’s dance days may have brought me close a time or two to an honest to goodness brawl. Back then, whenever my inner-dancerina was in peril, out came my secret weapon – my younger sister. Dolores always kept one eye on me. She understood my need for attention and put up with my shenanigans. She had this wonderful way of gently coaxing me off Jersey Shore dance floors by wrapping her fist around my hair and pulling hard. She accepted my tendency toward ‘over’ expression. She knew it was a ruse. At twenty, I was under the delusion – staring eyes were imaginary compliments. Though my sister is a whole year younger, she was, is and will always be, much smarter than I. So though I may have lost a few hairs on my head in the 1980’s, I never lost a bar fight thanks to my little sister.
Thank you. May you dream of dancing to your heart’s content and your feet never tire…
Dancing Bird spun onto paper August 25, 2014. I believe I’m being unduly influenced by my neighbor’s chickens.
I don’t get out much, at least to places with bars and bands. Last night, a good friend and I ventured out to one such establishment. We had lots to chat about and enjoyed much girlish giggling. The band wasn’t half bad. Groups of guys and dolls braved the small dance floor. Back in my twenties I did a great pelvic thrust, but alas, I now have pride .;-)
During the evening, my friend excused herself to the ladies room. I was left alone to either: A – make pretend I had lots of text messages, or B – crowd watch. I was observing a few minutes when ‘they’ or rather ‘she’ walked in with two others. Without getting too cliché, she ‘resembled’ Sandy (Olivia Newton John’s character) from the movie, Grease with a few exceptions: She too rocked a black spandex ensemble, but was showing a heck of a lot more cleavage. She was lots older. She enjoyed whipping her long, bleached hair around. Her companions were of the subtle variety. Their clothing had air-pockets. They walked in behind ‘her’ and maintained wing position regardless of the continued hair lashing.
Without knowing any of the three ladies and having a mojito under my belt, I concluded, which one was the ‘ugly’ friend.
Thank you. May you dream of giant dance floors and spinning on your toes.
Long Lady created with Prisma, August 25, 2014 with a mild headache.