Tuesday, May 3, 2011

I Can Outlast Shapewear And Other Things I Learned This Weekend

We attended a wedding reception this weekend--our first of three in the next 6 weeks. It was a first for my children. You know how you go through cycles with that stuff? You attend some when you are younger for friends and family. Then as you are nearing that stage of life yourself, you attend what seems like an endless stream of weddings and receptions and showers for yourself, your siblings, your friends. Then you move beyond thatto baby showers. And before you know it or are ready for it, you have friends who have children who are getting married or the niece and nephew who were the flower girl and ring bearer inyour own wedding are getting married themselves.You blink and twenty years has passed.


We attended a wedding reception last weekend and I may have killed my "shape wear." I'm pretty sure "shape wear" is what my grandmother would have called a girdle. Yes, my friends, I am at a point in my life where gravity is my archenemy and the fashion industry has come to my rescue with Spanx and such all so that my clothed backside doesn't look like two piglets wrestling under a blanket. Who says life after 40 isn't fun?

So my shape wear is a little worse for the wear and it's all my sister-in-law's fault. She caught me at the table early in the evening and laid it out: I would be dancing. I would be dancing ALL NIGHT, dammit and I would like it. I was going to rock the floor with her and that was all there was to it.

I should mention some things here: My sister-in-law is awesome. (All of my sisters-in-law are great, they just weren't all there demanding that I bust a move.) She is to be the Mother of the Groom at the end of the month. Then a few weeks later she will be the Mother of the Bride. Overachieve much? She was ready to get her groove on at this reception to gear up for the next two. Also? My sister-in-law is reed thin. I'm pretty sure that she's never worn shape wear in her life. I'm pretty sure that if I said the word "shape wear" to her, even in context, that I would be met with a puzzled look and the sound of crickets chirping. She is thin and beautiful and awesome and she demanded that I shake my groovethang.

Yes, I am totally blaming Heather for the demise of my girdle. Because I was the mayor of that dance floor. I am still sore. I have blisters on my feet and my thighs scream for mercy when I climb stairs. I don't need Zumba or some fancy exercise program, I'll just crash weddings to stay in shape. By the end of the night, my shoes were off, my jacket was draped over a chair, my makeup was pretty much melted off my face, my hair was...well, let's not even go there, and my shape wear was cursing the day it ever met me.

I learned that I am a shape wear killer. And I'm pretty sure that I tortured it before I killed it. Those creeps on Criminal Minds have nothing on me. I could be a serial shape wear killer on Criminal Behinds.

I also learned that my oldest son is a dancing fool. If you had told me 12 years ago when I was holding that 9 pound bundle that one day I'd be fist pumping on a dance floor to the Black Eyed Peas with him I would have laughed in your face. He fast danced, he slow danced, he did push ups, he moonwalked, he played air guitar, he did "the bump" with me. It was awesome.

I learned that my 14 year old daughter, when given enough persuasion (read: her Uncle Steve, incidentally married to my awesome arm-twisting SIL, wouldn't let her sit down because "Weddings aren't for sitting! People who sit through life never have any fun!") and the proper song, is happy to get out on the floor and dance and laugh with the rest of her crazy family. Thanks, Flo Rida and Ke$ha! Your songs are just the thing to make a 14 year old forget to worry about being embarrassed.

I learned that the number of times I will hear a rebel yell "Woooooooooo!" along with a fist bump from my husband is directly proportional to the length of time we have been at the party and the number of um, "toasts" he has made.

I learned that it only took 20 years, but I finally convinced my husband that there is more to do on a dance floor than slow dance.

I learned that standing in front of the speaker for more than a chorus of any song will leave your ears ringing for hours.

I learned it is important to dress in layers.

I learned that molesting the Moose at the Moose Club could get you banned for life.

I learned that my nephew is just as fun to dance with now as he was 20 years ago at my wedding. (His intended is a gem as well. Poor thing didn't bat an eye at our craziness. She just joined right in. Love her!)

I learned that Mary has an overdeveloped vocabulary. Witness this exchange:
Me: Are you going to dance with Aunt Heather and I later?
Mary: Um, NO! I would be humiliated! (I'm still wondering exactly where she learned that word...)

I learned that my family is awesome--even more awesome than I already believed them to be--and that I am really looking forward to the next party.

And seriously, somebody had better make sure that Vanilla Ice is on the playlist. Word to your mutha!

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