Secret #6 - I am a Dancin' Mo-Sheen!

I'm a Dancing machine, watch me get down! (And then help me back up, please!)

Yessiree, Bob! I can cut a rug! My children are mortified often... Hubby has also been the victim of my "moves" on more than one occasion. I really do love to dance. I had classical ballet lessons as a youngster, creative dance as a pre-teen, and I went steady with a guy I tho

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ught was just the best break-dancer ever! (OK - It was the 80's... Give me a break!) I was just never brave enough to roll around on the floor, spinning my hair right out of its roots. I was a Breaker Girl failure (sniff).

I never really stopped dancing. It was the ruse I used to begin dating Hubby. Although, I have to admit, my performance was less than stellar. (Read: Too much beer, not enough sense!) Since then, Hubby has strict rules about what "moves" I am allowed to perform and then there are other restrictions depending on my "intake". I don't mind. I knew right then, he was a keeper!

My birthday is now the biggest event of my dancing repertoire, as my athsma doesn't do well in bars these days. (Read: getting old really bites!) I get to don a pretty dress, wear wonderfully beautiful and excruciatingly painful shoes and dance the night away without care. Hubby often stands watchfully by the dancefloor as I bounce about with my best girlfriends. He will take me out on the slow songs and spin me wildly if it sounds like a jitterbug/swing beat, but he is not one to rock out with me no matter how much I plead.

I did take him out on the floor once during a particularly silly song. He stood there. Didn't move. Not one muscle. No matter what I did. He stood stock still, turning red all over! I haven't done that since. But it was fun! (And he smiles about it.)

I hope I am dancing until I cannot stand up any more! And even then, I will "Chair Dance!"