The Great Dancing Experiment

Someone keeps trying to relive their youth. I won't say it too loud, I might hear me.

Rather than feel bad that my dear friend and I were the oldest ladies in the dance club last night (probably by a decade...) I'll just laugh at it. Since the other option is going zero-to-60 in my minivan headed toward Midlife Crisisville.

My friend and I have been itching to go dancing lately and since we hadn't been in well over a year, probably closer to two, we thought we were deserving of a night out on the town, just us girls and a couple a martinis. As we were headed out all dolled up (after calling around to find out what girls wear to clubs these days) my cell phone rang, it was my friend who was meeting me out and not even a "Hello", but instead, "Are you in the minivan?"

Yep. Headed out for a hot night of dancing via minivan. Two carseats in the back. A pack n play. A double stroller. A sippie cup.

I'm owning this.

So we meet for tapas at a yummy restaurant and we have sangria. And garlicky shrimp and quesadilla and crab and cheese. Nope, not on the diet. And we are feeling good. Old, but good.

And we head out and walk to the club. There's a giant group of people outside but we can't figure out what or where the line is so we stand on the side and think about it. We find the line.

The bouncer laughs at me when I try to hand him my I.D.

We head in, scout the place out, people are starting to file in so we don't know yet what kind of crowd it will be. I am getting tired at this point. It is wayyy past my bedtime. But I have my favorite going-out-drink in the whole world, I call it my trademark "Raspberry Chutney", which is Raspberry Stoli and Ginger Ale. Yum. "Push It" comes on. And we dance.

A couple of hours later -- the crowd's age becomes apparent. And it is so not our age group. In fact, I seem to remember now something about laughing at the older men and women who would dare to dance at one of our clubs, back in the day. And last night, I wasn't the one laughing. By midnight we were rethinking our choice of dance club and tried to leave. But we walked outside and it was raining so we stuck it out for an amazing hour and a half more. It wasn't like I remembered it. Has it really been that long?

But whine whine whine whine I am not quite done yet with my dancing dream! I still got some groove I need to get on! Where can a 33 year old get her groove on without looking like an old lady flailing about? So the great dancing experiment begins. Next stop: a club more our age range, if there is such a thing. Do they call those "lounges" now? Oh God, I hope not.

Either way, the days of dancing as they used to exist in my world are quite done. There was a time when I went dancing every night of the week and got home around 4 every morning. Then those days whittled down to Friday and Saturday nights. Then it became an occasional Friday or Saturday night. And since "pregnant" isn't really "in" at dance clubs these days and that's what I've been wearing for the better part of the past couple years, I put my dance mojo on hold. And instilled 8 o'clock bedtimes and the little alarm clocks instilled their no-fail 7 o'clock wakey times, and well, I realized last night that getting home at 2:30 not only wrecks a good night's sleep, it makes me a completely useless nub for the whole next day as I recover from dehydration (could've used that Camelbak last night...) and in turn, I end up skipping my run and eating like crap. So it reallllllly has to be worth it if I go for a next round.

Not to mention my feet kill. Still.

I'll let you know how it goes next time. Next year.

***

Wanna know who won this week? Snaps to Denise at A Woman with Hobbit Feet! Yay, you!!! You win the Camelbak Hydration Pack and tee-shirt from One More Mile. Come back tomorrow to see what's up for grabs this week. And Tuesday is the big big big grand prize announcement!

The Great Dancing Experiment

https://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2008/07/great-dancing-experiment.html