The title of this post brings me back to the glory days of middle school where there were a group of girls who by 7th grade society standards were supposed to be the most beautiful, most well-dressed and the most popular girls from our exit of the Long Island Expressway. God's precious jewels to suburban adolescence would amuse themselves by tantalizing the young strapping athletes in our class with booty dances during intramural sports in the gymnasium.
"Jump Shake Your Booty" was one of the profound lyrics in their supportive cheers. The cheer came along with hip swivels, pinkie finger-biting and giggling at nothing in particular - did I mention we were 12? These are the same girls who held a strike against the kids in Special-Ed and stomped and stormed around school grounds holding signs in "code" that they were against this organization of slower-education. I may or may not have been in Special-Ed math and I may or may not have been offended by said strike. Saying that, we're all totally friends on facebook today and I still count with my fingers.
I was never cool enough to perform the "Jump Shake Your Booty" dance but now in my 30's, if you get enough glasses of Bordeaux in me, you can be damn sure that there is reprise of this dance that has been branded in my memory that I torture my French friends with my American high school "folk dancing".
I'm digressing a bit, so last night I took a hip-hop jazz dance class at my gym. The last time I took this class was about a week after the break-up where my self esteem was down the toilet and this complicated dance class only made matters worse where each false step made me feel like an even bigger loser. Well, my friends, last night was a different story. Thanks to the fact that I let go of being a perfectionist where my performance in this dance class held no weight against my abilities to function in a relationship, I actually did quite well, while enjoying a good laugh at my expense whenever I'd trip over myself or bump into my neighbor because I turned the wrong way. Our dance routine had a few "Jump Shake Your Booty" throwback moves and all to the song of my 2011 guilty pleasure and it felt amazing - really. I haven't let go like that since my carefree Broadway Dance Center days where I spent close to 20 hours a week in dance class.
Last night was a turning point in my mental psyche. I am finally enjoying time by myself again where it doesn't feel forced and my current relationship is the cherry on top of my new and improved life. Who knew that getting dumped was the best thing that could have ever happened to me?
