I was shopping with a friend the other day and saw some nice dress pants that I really liked. I hurried over to the rack to find my size and held them up proudly for her approval. I was not prepared for what came next.

She said, no, those pants won't dance.

I started laughing. I told her no, they won't dance but, I like them. She gently explained to me that the pants were ugly and should sit on the rack forever. I was horrified. I can't dance, why should my pants? Does that mean, nevermind. So, even though I am going no where near a club or planning to cut a rug somewhere, the pants are off limits.

This really distressed me. Now let me get this straight.

I need pants that dance, a shirt that shimmies and socks that swing? No, that doesn't sound right. The socks should rock, right? Do I also need shoes that shuffle? If the pants won't dance, that could be a problem. This conflict was never considered by me before. Forget the pants. I decided that I just needed earrings that fling. I left the store pantless, except for the ones that I was wearing. I did not dare ask my friend if those pants danced. I did not want to know. I can't seem to shake this new clothes concept, though.

I now need a dress that dips and heels that holler to match my purse that pimps. My clothes have outdone me. I am exhausted. Maybe I will just stick to what I already have in my closet. I am sure that I have a hat that hustles in there, somewhere. It will probably clash with my toering that tangos, though. I know. I will off set the outfit with a belt that boogies. Hey, I have clogs that clog. Will that work? It should. I survived the seventies in a tshirt that tripped.

In the eighties, it became a tshirt that ripped. That sounds funny. About the pants, all the ones that I wore in the nineties were so full of holes that they all fell apart. I really do need some pants. I have now decided that instead of dress pants that won't dance, I will get some jeans that jam. My next step is to find a hairstylist that will give me bangs that bang but, to get there, I need a car that creeps. That may take awhile.

Sheesh.

I will now retire in my robe that rolls.

Cheers.

Bridgitte Williams http://All4Webs.com/i/3/bridgitte/home.htm