The Dancing Queen!


There are moments in everyone's life when some thing, or some incident, has "how embarrassing" written all over it in red Sharpie ink.  For me, even the mention of the word "disco" leeks with temporary, high-inducing blots and scribbles.  It is one of those music/dance genres (and eras) that make me blush just thinking about.  At this very moment I am basking in my embarrassment to the glittering beat of ABBA. 

saturday_night_fever Though I'm embarrassed about it, as well as for all those who found themselves trapped in its decade and on its dance floor making Travolta-esque moves, I will still continue to listen.  The one thing you will not see, even if you live to the ripe old age of Methuselah, is me dancing publically to said music genre.  

My confession today is that I do actually dance to this kind of music but, like the sighting of the Loch ness monster, this sight will only be a thing of legend and fairytales in which the imagination will have to paint its own nightmarish picture.  For in these impulsive moments, all blinds, curtains, gaps, and doors will be tightly sealed, blocking any eye curious or crazy enough to attempt a peak at my embarrassment.   I’m not exactly sure why this dance form brings out my Victorian prudery.  It just might be the obvious freedom, and particularly immodest tendency, to exhibit certain traditionally gartered body parts.  Parts that no longer have bras or others that no longer need to breath.  Anyway, I’m starting to blush again, so I’d best go hide in shame or lock up the house and don my platforms, feather my hair, and squeeze into my pink sequins embroidered jumpsuit. (I’m sorry if any of you are experiencing cyber nausea at the moment, really). Sharpie-Red


Jayne said…
I do remember you listening to that as my roomie. I won't claim to have seen you dancing (although I have!) but I do have a picture of the three of us on Kensington's steps in our disco getup. I'll look it up, but I believe you wore flourescent pink pants! Those were some fun times.
Julie said…
Please dance in front of the boys, let them think you're a little crazy! It's payback and in the "mom code"!
Heatherlyn said…
Actually, when you compared your moments of dance with legends of mythical characters I thought that was a fantastic metaphor. I think it's the reason I don't really dance in public, even by myself I embarrass myself! Too bad, because it's such a healthy exercise!
mommymuse said…
I'll send Gracie up to your house to break through any residual disco hangups. She's turned us into a family of dancing queens--yes, even Eric, although I'm trying to convince him that he should be a dancing prince instead. How can anyone listen to ABBA and NOT dance? But yes, I do try to keep the blinds closed when I join the fun :). There are certain images the neighbors just don't need seared into their brains.
Brenny said…
Do the Hustle! Doot Doot Doo doot, Doot doot Doo doot.

Disco (and the 70's) makes me nervous, too, and for some reason I feel like this is because it followed the 60's. The 60's had all the free love and drug use, but long flowy clothes. The 70's had the free love and drug use, but let it all hang out and jiggle...

Do the Hustle! Doot doot doo doot, doot doot doo doot.
Melisa said…
I love disco! But I don't like to dance. Hmmmm

Becky said…
Actually, my kids do get to see me dance to ABBA and other disco style music. But they too are trapped in the sealed environment and have signed several legal documents forbidding them to share any thing they may witness during said dancing horrors upon threat of severe tickling torture.
etosamoe said…
What about me? I sign the papers - Let's get down, we'll put on the 8 track and chill out at my crib. You're far out and groovy. I dig it!

Well, I'll catch you on the flip side, foxy lady!

(70s slang courtesy of

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