Tango Whore

Digruntled, pissed off and sure that once again I'd wind up sitting in a corner, I still put out the effort and went to dance. I'd had a conversation earlier with a friend that went something like this:

"Come for a while, then we'll go to the legion at about 10:30."

"I don't want to go in until later, mayber 9:30. That doesn't leave very much time."

"Okay, we'll leave later then. Wear a dress that works for swing and we can go to Swan's later."

"I don't want to wear a dress. I was thinking of wearing jeans. And I've tried swing and salsa. All I want is to tango."

"Gee, there is no pleasing you tonight." Yeah, that was for sure. PMS, menopause. And no dancing. Makes for some grumpy woman. And for those of you not in the know, menopause causes PMS even when you don't MS. And it is killer PMS too.

As we were talking, though I realized since coming back from Argentina, my dress has been much more casual. In Buenos Aires, the tourists often stand out like a sore thumb as they are the ones with low cut dresses, mini skirts, baubles and glitter. The Argentinean women dress casually, often in jeans, or plain skirts and tops. Because I naturally gravitate towards a more casual look, it was easy to follow. And it made no difference to the amount I danced.

Digging through my closet nets many tourista dresses. Red? Nope not that one. Too short. Don't feel like it. This one? Also red. Nope. Ooh, forgot about this BCBG black dress. Got it on eBay just before my trip and I've only worn it once. Black sequined number with gauze over silver. Sexy. Fine, fine, I'll wear a dress. Garnets bought in Buenos Aires at a flea market, fishnet capri stockings and red shoes and I was set to go.

And it worked. Last night finally felt like I was home again. After almost two months of very few dances, all my favourite leads (less one) spinned me around the room. Guess I have to remember to dress up. I'm a barbie girl...