Risk Day 23: Pretend to be Hip Hop

I have a confession to make: In my secret fantasy life I’m a hip hop dancer. Give me all of it. I’ll take the tight tank tops and oversized sweat pants with long hair that whips around as my feet move like awesome. Or throw on a baseball cap and rock it sideways as I Pop & Lock. I think it was my brothers who originally helped light the fire of my funky side, exposing me to the likes of underground rap and R&B when I was just a wee thing. What they didn’t know was that the music was all well and good, but being able to move my hips independently from chest was more important to me.

As I now travel through my 29th year, I’m seeing that certain things will just never happen for me and getting cast as background in the next Step Up movie is one of them. But that doesn’t mean I can’t pretend and last night was no different.

A friend of mine is getting married and last night was her Bachelorette party. After a really fun night we ended up at a bar/restaurant that brings in a DJ and lights over the weekend for a makeshift club. There were a good amount of people there and as the night wore on, the DJ eventually switched to hip hop music rather than techno (thank god). I was feeling it and so was a friend of mine and so…

Risk Part 1: …we started dancing, the kind of dancing that makes a circle around us. Now I don’t really have any clue what I’m doing when I dance. I have enough rhythm and understanding of how my body moves though to be a really good faker. And last night was no different. I was wiggling my chest and droppin’ it like it’s hot. And people were cheering us on! It was like a little slice of my dream coming true, along with all the confidence and bad ass that I see in those dancers. I could kick your ass if I had wanted to last night I was so bad ass.

I went back to my corner with my friends and laughed about how none of them had ever seen me move like that. The sweat was finally halting it’s race to the bottom of my shoes when I was being motioned for by a guy I knew had at least a little ability. Backing up, we had been talking to these boys, trying to get them to engage in some of the dares we had for our friend. In the process I had seen, and commented on, the little bit of skill this guy had. Now he wanted me to come over to him and…

Risk Part 2: … I’m not allowing myself to turn that kind of thing down this year. Stupid blog! So I go over and he says, “I’ll follow your lead.” But then, he actually starts dancing. And truth be told, he had some skill. I mean, he was no Twitch and would be laughed off the stage by Mary Murphy, but he had enough skill that I knew I was about to be exposed for the fraud I really was. Sure enough he starts doing things and motioning to me. I tried to say, “I’ve got nothing on you! You do something.” But he wouldn’t bite. He did the drop down and support your self from behind with one hand and then switch thing, so finally, in my head I thought, “Take the risk D! Do it, do it, do it…”

Imagine me, cute little outfit (no skirt don’t worry) dropping down, putting my hand on the nasty, disease infested bar floor, then trying to switch and busting ass. I mean full out on the floor, that was an utter fail kind of bust ass. It did not work. At all.

Oh so embarrassing. First realizing that I had just touched the gross bar floor, then realizing that my butt had too. I tried to take it in stride, which was very difficult to do since not only did he help me up but another guy ran to my aid. I wasn’t drunk. I was just hit with a dose of Hip Hop Envy. I laughed it off, saying that he was so much better than me and found a way to make my departure back to my friends. Inside I was mortified.

The crappy thing about this too was that the falling really negated the high I had gotten from dancing earlier. Suddenly I felt so foolish for even pretending I had any moves at all and I started questioning whether my friends were just being nice and the truth was closer to me looking silly up there.

But I guess that’s the thing about risks, the thing that usually stops me: Looking foolish. I don’t know why I fear it so, but there it is. And last night, I got a big hefty dose.


One thought on “Risk Day 23: Pretend to be Hip Hop

  1. Pingback: Day 260 Risk: Party With Ripped Pants « Little D, Big Year

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