I went to hip hop dance class last night, I’m trying to diversify my dance skills for when Bèy reaches out and asks me to star in one of her videos (I’m visualizing the fuck out of this, so it will happen soon. All you doubters can fuck right off with ya eye rolls). I must say, I reckon pretty soon I will be ready for the big time. Must remember that it’s all about patterns and that music is a road map. That’s what our instructor said and that little fella can move so I’m going to pay attention to him.
He also said that we should not act like it’s school and not to talk to people we don’t know but get to know each other and high five each other (I did eye roll then, what is it with the fuckin high fiving, you just said we’re not in high school mate). I think me asking some random bird in the changing rooms for a hair tie shows that I am happy to make friends with my fellow dancers (okay potential dancers but you should have heard our stomps, we sounded proper fierce).
If anyone is interested the classes take place at Harbour Dance Centre which is conveniently right next to a bar with a patio.
I was so unprepared that morning that I’d almost forgotten dance class, it was one of those mornings that even Eric couldn’t get me out of bed until the very last safe moment. Yep, I was hungover AF (don’t judge it was Wednesday the day before and we all know what that means). Mr C and I have been doing alright at not drinking through the week (excuse me whilst I polish my halo) so figured I should celebrate my achievement.
Okay so onto the boob thing. Back to dance class, a bird was there and she obviously had fake boobs and she was owning them. Whichever way she moved those things went right with her. Now I’m not judging (you know me, I’m no judgey bitch) on the contrary, I think it was fab that she was owning the awesomeness of her fake boobs. They obviously filled her with confidence as she proper sassed her movements up. This bird was very happy with her reflection. I on the other hand avoided the mirror (unless I knew I was dancing fabulously) and when I did get a glimpse I chastised myself for my terrible posture. My arms looked good though (I’ve been working out).
As I get older (ugh that sounds shit eh but how else do you say it. As I grow, as I mature……..they all sound shit so let’s not try and jazz it up), I do find myself looking in the mirror at those crinkly soft lines that have appeared around my eyes and wonder if a Botox injection is on the cards. Or if me boobs could do with a lift or boost or whatever you call it. Or if I should get the hairs on me chin zapped before it turns into a full on beard and Mr C and I are fighting over the last blade!!
At the same time, as I spend this last year in my thirties, I can truly say that I am the happiest I have ever been. Life is fuckin awesome and I’m not saying that to put a positive spin on getting older, saggy boobs (okay not yet but inevitably), wrinkles or chin hair. I’m not even saying it to be an irritating positive bitch (haters gonna hate). Life just is awesome. So I’m not going to sweat the small stuff and when I turn forty I will not sink myself into a drunken stupor mourning for my youth. Okay, I will sink into a drunken stupor and I might actually mourn for my youth but I will be having fun!
In other news, he did it Mr C has talked me into signing up for racing the planet desert race . We are going to the Atacama desert in 2019 and are going to cover 250 kms in 7 days. It’s fuckin stupid I know but if you’re going to have a mid life crisis, might as well make it a challenging one!