Shield Your Eyes

First, a disclaimer: I have not been out in a VERY long time. I don't go out. I stay in and eat froot loops while reading a novel. It's not that I don't want to go out - but- yes, it is. I don't usually want to go out. I'm tired at the end of the day (much like the rest of the world, I presume) and would rather be lazy instead, in most cases.

Saturday night was an exception. After Lauren's party, I must've had some adrenaline rush left over that propelled me to the Friends of the Blast Party, 2009. It's really a big family thing and I knew everyone would be there having fun without me. Family is just about the only thing that'll get me out the door after dark.

Our family has been a big part of The Blast From The Past for something like 20 years or so, and when it was decided that the show would not go on this year, there was a party planned instead. Lots of people love dressing up for these things, but I punked out and wore my normal clothes. I dressed like a middle-class-stay-at-home-mom-in-old-jeans. But I had a great time despite my boring appearance.

There was dancing...



That's my cousin Joy in the hott dress, and my sister-in-law Emily with the boots and 'fro.

There was posing...




My brother Eric in Miami Vice getup, and cousin Sam peacin' out.

Eric and Emily snuggling to watch a skit.

There were crazy faces made by my husband to atone for the lack of crazy costume...

But above all, there was Hula-hooping. A contest. My mom asked me to enter because they only had 3 people signed up so far, and I felt bad for the organizers. I think I was expecting a private little contest off in a corner somewhere while the rest of the crowd did their own thing.

Not so, my friend. Spotlights were aimed, the stage was cleared, seats were pulled up, and we were the main attraction.

Now, I'm not proud of the photos you're about to see, but in the interest of full disclosure, they must be included.

At the beginning, I was just happy that I'd managed to keep the thing up for any length of time. As I kept on going though, realizing I was kicking heinie, I really tried to do a good job. I threw my soul into that hula-hoop.

See the chica in the white pants? She was moving nice and slow. Easy does it. Smooth and controlled.

I, on the other hand, must've looked like a dizzy bunny on speed. No control for miles. I was at the mercy of the hoop. I think I did about 8 hip rotations for every 1 rotation made by smooth white-pants up there. She stayed upright, barely shuffling her feet when she needed a new move, whereas I looked like this most of the time:

Down to the floor, up at an angle, shooting my hips wherever they were needed most. I almost had a heart attack before the song was over, but I lasted long enough to qualify for the final round. Who knew hula-hooping was such a work-out? I had dragged Emily along with me, and she was in about the same shape I was: breathless, heaving, and sweaty.

I would have been horrified by my appearance, had I known how devastating it actually was. I thought everyone looked wigged out while hula-hooping. My only consolation was knowing that most people were hypnotized by the hottie in the white pants, therefore I went mostly unnoticed by all except my family.

I should get out more. If I did, I might've realized that any group of people watching me gyrate in a highly non-flattering fashion is an embarrassing thing.

However, I did come away with this little third-place beauty. The only trophy I've ever won. Woo.

The Hula hottie won first place. And I must admit - she deserved it. Even if I worked way harder. Perhaps because I worked way harder.