So that happened

             When Katie tells you to grab your heels because you are going to a dance class you say, “hell no!” and end up going anyway.  In the years Katie and I have been friends whenever we ask the other for a favour it’s less asking and more to double check availability. Our asks are not great they are just time consuming as they usually involve work. So when Katie ‘invited’ me to join her for a dance class, which would involve me to be in heels, I sighed a sigh of, “oh, please don’t make me!” and crumbled in defeat. She played the friend card and I had no reason to contend it. Katie, one. Me, zero.

            It would have probably been a good idea to read the invitation before we went. Showing up in heels with jeans, like I did, was the wrong idea. My rational was, "they won’t ask us to do anything in heels that we can’t do in jeans, right?" Wrong. A dance class is a dance class. So there we were, jiving to the music with a bevel of the knee here and a booty pop there. We joined the Army of Sass for the night. 

              It turned out to be an hour and a half of our lives well spent. The class was hilarious and fun. The other girls in our class made us feel welcomed and Troy, the instructor, reminded us that we are allowed to touch ourselves - it does, in fact, belong to us. Katie said it was an experience that made her feel sexier than anything she has done in a long time. As for myself, for someone who can barely call what she does when music is playing, dancing, especially in heels, I giggled my way through it.

              Try something strange, for the hell of it, because it’s more fun with your friends by your side. You may be pleasantly surprised by your “hell no’s”. I probably won't go back, it’s not my thing, but I cannot wait to see Katie dance her way to glory. 

Army of Sass