I do NOT dance

I don’t dance. Wait. Let me rephrase this; I don’t dance sober. If you knew me through college you would know a little number that I do after vodka has been introduced into the evening—it may, or may not be called The Sloanie Dance. I may, or may not, have forced my friends to circle up and go through a seminar on how to Sloanie Dance. Again, I am neither confirming nor denying this.

But in my normal every day life, I do not dance. Can’t hold a rhythm to save my life. I am the equivalent of that tall skinny white guy that bops his head, and looks around to try and mimic what everyone else is doing while longing to be somewhere else. I know, I know Why the eff is she talking about NOT dancing? Well, today after my run I was undressing for the shower and got down to my sports bra. While taking it off I found it’s much easier to shimmy and sorta shake it off my body.

Not really dancing but funny enough to make me bust out laughing at myself when I realized what I did just to get undressed. It was probably the least sexiest thing ever, but still, pretty funny. It’s weird the things we do in our everyday life that no one else knows about—until now.

What do you do in private that makes you laugh at yourself?

Though no longer this crazy skinny…The Sloanie Dance is still the same.

My friend Fabulous learning

Bust it good! At home

New Years 2008

New Years 2008 Ringing it in!

 

PS: You can hire me to teach private Sloanie Dance lessons. All I require is vodka, music and some attention.

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