Don't Borrow Other People's Clothes

So remember this little adventure?  

Let me tell you how that all turned out.

When I finally decided that I wanted to "perform", I knew I had some work to do. Because let's be honest - a poorly executed striptease is painful for everyone.

I was lucky enough to get a video of the striptease on my phone. Because unless you do it for a living, there is no way you're going to remember all those moves. It seems simple at the time, but later you're left asking yourself - is it grind, grind, booty pop or grind, squat, booty pop? Or wait, maybe it was grind, step, bend, wiggle, step, grind, bend, squat, slither then booty pop?

See how it can get confusing?

So for the next few weeks, I would watch the video and do the moves while I was making dinner. Once I had the moves memorized,  I was ready to move to the next step - watching myself in the pantry glass, which is kinda a frosted type glass. And that worked out perfectly because the distortion improved my moves. Significantly.

Next it was on to music selection. And then a test run with the music. Is the timing good? Can I move to this beat? And is the song going to last so I'm not stuck in the middle of a wiggle (or is it slither) and it all the sudden go silent?

And can I just take a moment right here to say this is all really a testimony to how little anyone, except for me, is in the kitchen? It's like my husband believes the kitchen has been quarantined or something. Really, honey - it's not off limits. You're more than welcome to come in and do something kitcheny anytime. You know...that thing known as cooking? Cooking. Say it with me - coooooking. Yes, that's right, cooking - it's how the food that you eat gets prepared. Very good. I know that's a lot to take in for one day; tomorrow's lesson will be over washing dishes.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should probably also note that it's pretty standard for me to listen to music and dance around when I'm in the kitchen.  So, even if one of them did happen to stumble into the kitchen by accident, they wouldn't have found it particularly alarming. My dancing around, I mean. The fact that they were in the kitchen might be a different story.

Except I just realized that makes it sound like I frequently perform stripteases in my kitchen. Sadly, I do not.  But I do dance. You know, the old, out of shape, off beat, ugly type dancing I'm famous for - that's pretty standard. I could have easily switched over if anyone ever came in. Which, we've already established, was very unlikely.

So I practice until I get it down. Or down enough. Because who am I kidding, it's never going to really look like the video. One final thing, then I'm ready! Logistics. Um, how am I going to pull this off?

Since we have kids and it's frowned upon to send them out to the car for a few hours...I had to think this through.  Their bedroom is across the hall from ours...that was out. The only logical place seemed like the living room. Their bedroom is upstairs, living room is downstairs - far enough away from them that they won't be disturbed (or scarred by accidental exposure) but close enough that we can yell at them to go back to bed won't go to jail.

The night arrives - I finally feel brave enough to do this. I thought it would be cute for me to wear one of his shirts. I don't know why, I just thought it was kinda sexy - the whole high heels and men's shirt thing...he's got like a million and one button-down, collared shirts. I grabbed the first one my hand landed on.

So I'm stationed. The music begins.  I start wiggling (or am I suppose to start with grinding?). He enters the room, takes one look at me and says:

"Is that one of my dry-clean only shirts?"

Pause

"Are you wrinkling it?"

SCREEECH.

I stop, mid motion, frozen and give him this look like "Are you an serious?" Your shirt? You're worried about your shirt? In case you didn't notice - there's a little bit more going on here beside the fact that I'm wearing your shirt...

And what's even funnier is the fact that I actually answered him. I was all, "No, it's not getting wrinkled, it's fine...I mean, I don't think so. Is it?" Because then I was all worried about the shirt.

That, people, is how you do sexy when you're old and married.