Dance Story

I have daydreams about dancing.  Truth be told, I have daydreams about a lot of stuff, but when I’m in the car and have the radio on, chances are, I am daydreaming about dancing.  And, not just dancing, but being a really GOOD dancer.  Not a professional dancer (i.e ballerina, theatre, exotic…), but just one that doesn’t look like a drunk white girl with spasms and a painful look on her face.

In these daydreams, sometimes I picture myself being able to shake my money maker like famous people.  And, sometimes I just work out my own choreography.  Let me provide some examples:

1.  Katherine Heigl is at the bar on the night she gets all “Knocked Up” (ba-dum-cha….too easy, I know) and she and the baby daddy are dancing to Savage’s “Swing” – her moves are so subtle, yet they look fun and flirty.  Hell, if I had her body though, I bet my moves, horrid as they are on their own, would look like a million bucks.

2.  Beyonce.  This is so cliche, but give me a black leotard and a pair of black FMPs and puh-leeease let me be able to do the “All the Single Ladies” dance.  If Justin Timberlake can do it, there is no excuse for me.

3. Flo-Rida.  When Shawty gets low, low, low, low, low, low, low…..I wish I had some Apple Bottom Jeans (which would never work for me, because as I was told in 10th grade math class with the visual aid of an open math book, I have a flat bootay), maybe not boots with the fur (I am really hot natured) and have the whole club looking at me.  Looking at me because I had cleared the dance floor with my awesomeness, not because I was incorrectly doing the Roger Rabbit.  I chair dance a lot to that song when it comes on the radio (or, maybe I put it on repeat on my IPod).  Then, I realize I am making some distorted pout with my mouth and I try to bring it on back down to reality.

Daydream Emily is so freakin’ cool.  Real Ems can’t even get through jazzercise without nearly needing some oxygen.  Dare to dream, people, dare to dream.

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