i like to dance.  sometimes i love it.  i love to let the music wash over me like a psychotic drug and do with me what it will.  whether it’s some raunchy rap music about bending over and letting some random dude “see it” or some sensual jazzy saxophone or a for real r&b crooner being addicted to my good loving.  it feels good and i don’t have a care in the world. and if i’ve had a couple of drinks in my system, it’s on!

in these recent months, i’ve been partying like it’s 1999 and i’m a youngster.  never mind that the next day, my knees are aching like i am 1999. i was going to get my party on! i wasn’t going to any spots that the young people frequented because i didn’t feel like babysitting. i was the sky bar and grooves. nice lil spots with great music.  but i held back my dancing sometimes.  seems like black folks… well black women… were disrespectfully critical of me shaking what my mama gave me because i’m a big girl. never mind the fact that they were holding up the wall with too tight shoes and 4 inches of ashy heel hanging out the back and visible weave tracks. they just assumed it was their right to snicker behind their refill overdue hands as i danced on the floor with my girls or my husband.  yeah i know i shouldn’t let them get to me but we all have those moments of self doubt. ya know those moments that we have to stop whatever it is that we are doing and do a self inventory to make that everything is where it’s supposed to be.  and i let them do something that is mostly unheard of in the sagittarius realm… i let them dictate my actions.  sad, i know.

now on the flip side to that, i tend to let it all out when i’m with “the others”.  every year in houston, we have a BBQ cookoff to kickoff the rodeo.  my husband’s job sponsors one of the tents and we get wristbands to go and party for free.  well this year, we got wristbands for all 3 nights.  now i know what you’re thinking.  rodeo? country music, cowboy boots and tight jeans.  well yeah, that’s there. but i’m also talking free drinks the whole time, bbq and a mixture of music.  yeah i said free drinks. and not watered down drinks either. it seems this year i was the chick dujour as i was being hit on every night by cowboys, police officers and cowgirls. i even caught the DJ’s eye. so as the vodka and cranberries are flowing and the tequila shots are being downed, my inner dancing machine was like “aww sookie sookie! let’s boogie!” baby, i was dancing my ass off and the person’s next to me!  the white girls tried to act a fool at first. they thought that becus they had on the dukes and cowboy boots that they were sexy.  ok i’ll let ya make it on that. do you, ma! but i guaren-damn-tee ya that as soon as the dj finishes playing this country joint and flips to some rap music, i’mma show ya betta than i can tell ya. and thanks be to jam master jay, he flipped it to some uncle luke!  what! i must’ve dropped it and ticked it and percalated with the best of the video dancers. white boys were like daaaayuuuum! white girls had to give me my props after that. they were trying to get me on the stage but it was one too many drunks ones up there flaying their arms and need to be dyed roots for me. i didn’t want to have to get my scrap on in my drunken state.

it seemed to me that i was more comfortable with the others than i was with my own people. maybe a little bit of it was that i was dancing goddess to the rodeo crowd. or it could’ve been the liquor.  yeah blame in in the goose! at any rate, the next time i go out dancing, i’m gonna dance like no one is looking! and if they are, i hope they join me!