dance monkey dance

Yesterday, I was talking to some of my co-workers. To avoid a long backstory, I’ll just say that I blurted, “The tango,” and because I can’t just say things but must be expressive to the point of ludicrousness, I did a little dip/step forward.

I thought nothing of it, but my co-workers scoffed laughingly, “That is NOT the tango.” Okay, given the fact that I was standing confined in the corner of my L-shaped desk, and also given the fact that I had my arms crossed and my sweater wrapped around me backwards because some thoughtless, warm-blooded co-worker had decided to freeze me by opening the window (and given the fact that I don’t know how to do the tango, really, although that is very much not the point here) I didn’t really have the space or the freedom (or the knowledge) to do the actual tango, now did I.

The co-workers’ critical, must-put-other-people-down-to-feel-good-about-self attitudes notwithstanding, their mocking reminded me of a similar incident from years ago in my waitress days. I was walking down the main corridor of the restaurant’s kitchen, and I suddenly felt compelled to move to the music. So I did, and I swayed and strutted, imagining myself the confident center of attention as I prowled the catwalk in a fashion show.

Unfortunately, I was snapped hard back into reality when I turned to find the only co-worker present doubled over with laughter. That wouldn’t have bothered me so badly had that same guy not soon been all “you go girl!” to another, older(!) employee who gave in to the urge to shake her groove thing. For her he claps along to the music, yet all I get is, “Silly Anne, sexy is for … someone else.”

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind being the “girl next door” type, although I *really* don’t like to call it that. I even like making people laugh – I think it comes from being the youngest child – because I really feel I’ve made a connection if I can make someone laugh. It’s just that sometimes I get tired of being the goofy court jester, you know? Every once in a while, it would be nice to be the princess.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s