Where is the old lady?

I'm right here. Or I should say I was the old bag at the club last night.

My friend and I decided that we really wanted to go dancing. Just to hear some great music and let loose. We haven't gone dancing in years and are a little rusty about the whole scene. Now this friend and I have a long running history of dancing the night away. On top of speakers to be exact, without a care in the world. As we discovered some things have changed over the years, some have remained the same. The biggest change is that my friend and I are both stay at home moms. And I think we lost our mojo for coolness, dancing and all things hip. This is so incredibly sad.

Things that have changed:
I had nothing cool to wear. Jeans are still a staple but I have not bought a cute top in two years. Style? I have none. Nursing bra tops, oh yes I have several of those. I had to rig up a bra to fit a spaghetti top shirt. Accessories? My sex pot hoop earrings had some green stuff on them because I haven't worn them in so long. Belt or no belt? Agonizing. Night time make up...hmmm? Would more make up make me look older like Mrs. Roper? And I actually had to go out earlier that day and buy a pair of black sandals since my old ones broke.

We had no clue where to go dancing. Where was the trendy club in town with great music? We picked a place that one of us went to like a year and a half ago. We approached the building and suddenly couldn’t figure out what line to get in! We certainly were not VIP unless VIP stands for Very Old People. How could we be so stupid as to not figure out our lane? And then the big question: Would we be carded? We offered up our ID’s and the bouncer actually chuckled. So not funny! I thought he was going to make a joke of there being a senior special on drinks that night.

The crowd was a mix of trailer park trash meets early 20 somethings who shop at Forever 21. The music was pretty good and I think the DJ knew old peeps where in the house when he mixed in “Let’s Hear it for the Boy” from 1985.

There are two ways a guy will get a woman to dance. 1. He can casually move in closer to her area on the dance floor until he is dancing against any north, south, east or west end of her body. 2. He can ask her to dance. And this is where the highlight of my night comes in! A black guy asked me to dance! Suddenly it hit me, I knew that at 35 I was still a hot bitch! (Years back this was a regular occurrence for me. We never could figure it out?)


Things that have not changed:
There were plenty of hoochy mamas showing off way too much boobage and upper thigh. We spotted a few bacheroette parties and we wanted to run up and tell the bride that after tonight she will no longer be cool in a weird sorta way.

Next to us on the dance floor was a couple with their tongues down each other throats and grouping one another as if they were in a hotel room by themselves. Another couple was engaging in some strange kind of mating ritual. He was humping her and she was bent over touching the floor. I thought they were playing twister.

By the end of the night my friend and I were hobbling back to our cars in pain. Our feet were killing us and I thought for a second that my toes had turned into bloody nubs. Damn those new shoes! Just like the old days. Good times. Good times.