Confessions: Part Deux

I have a freak flag that needs flyin'. No, it's not what you're assuming. Ever since I saw Strictly Ballroom in my adolescence, I have had a small obsession with ballroom dance. I've never gone to an actual competition, but I've seen about every cheesy dance movie on DVD, and ever since the first season of Dancing with The Stars-well, forget about it. I don't even watch tv other than Fox news. It's embarrassing to admit my pathetic addiction, but I sure feel liberated.

If I came into a large inheritance, I would hook up with one of my old South American boyfriends, and I would compete in Latin Ballroom. I could care less about waltzing and the jive-it's rhumba and mambo that get me hot. Since I'll never come into a large inheritance, I won't have to deal with logistics-like how it's impossible to be tznius and dance. I don't want to look too deeply into it-it's just a small simple pleasure. I miss dancing. Sometimes I think that if Hashem really wants to bless me, he will send some hot Sephardic ba'al teshuvah from Venezuela, who liked to salsa in his previous life, and will indulge with me in our kitchen. (We can replace Venezeulan/salsa with Argentine/Tango) Nothing gets my hips undulating like a mojito and reggaeton, but for now I have to live vicariously through others.

As invigorating as Simchat Torah is supposed to be, I don't think I can play that music while pimpin' out in my car. I know it completely freaks people out to think that there is or used to be this side to me-they just can't picture it, but I occasionally slip into fantasies. If only I didn't drive a wagon with two visible children...