I can dance. I can jive.
The AWESOME kind, clearly. Saturday night was the first ever Mom Prom, a fundraiser for the Postpartum Support International of Washington. A ticket bought me admission, two tickets for wine and one for champagne, access to two VERY generous tables of candy and baked goods, real prom pictures, and four hours of well-DJ'd dancing.
Great taste bought me an outfit fit for a disco queen. It's not flattering, but it is FABULOUS.
I'm a size 10. I don't know where the widening properties of this ensemble come from, but MAN are they powerful.
It looks like your standard polyester halter maxidress, but it's not! Instead, it is the more rare, and therefore more precious, polyester halter maxiJUMPSUIT. It is amazing, even in spite of the fact that it smells a bit like a chain-smoking old dog regardless of two thorough washings. Sometimes you must sacrifice the olfactory for the visual. It's more than a fair trade here.
Highlights of the evening:
*Attempting and mastering a disco smoky eye. I didn't get a decent picture of my handiwork, but, believe me, behind those green glasses was flawless eye makeup.
It was so much better in real life.
*Dancing wildly with my rowdy ladyfriends. (No photos available. EVER.)
*Realizing that the awkward dancer in the boxy pantsuit was once nasty to a friend of mine and God was punishing her by making her look like a total nerd on the dancefloor. God only lets nice people dance well. He is just that way.
*Finding that an old friend and coworker was at prom, too. Hooray! Reunion!
Lowlights of the evening:
*NONE of our crew winning a raffle prize even after valiant efforts to do so.
*Going home. I could have danced all night and then have begged for more!
My feet may still hurt today, but my heart is full of song. ABBA song.....
Every time I try to look sexy I just look insane. I won't be IGNORED, Dan!