Sunday, February 5, 2012

Gimme Some Sugar

"Look how gorgeous YOU are tonight!  I LOVE your dress, sweetie! And what a lovely corsage! Okay.  So... grab a little bag.  Then you can pick five candies from the candy bar."

I repeated a variation of the above approximately 150 times tonight.

There was no insincerity to be had.  They did look gorgeous.  Every last one of them.

I volunteered at the elementary school Daddy/Daughter Sweetheart Dance.  At first I had offered to bake a couple dozen cupcakes and send them in.  Wash my hands of the thing whilst feeling philanthropic. When I discovered my husband had convinced Maya to be his date I simply had  to be there.

Luckily someone called in sick and I was able to woman the Candy Bar.

SO SUPER LUCKY!  I had the BEST job in all of Multi-Purpose Room Converted Into Candy Land! ...Except for maybe the DJ.  He got to spin and choose the tunes all the night long whilst bobbing his head in time.  At one point he even played  the popular new hit, I'm Sexy And I Know It..

That song embarrasses me.  I'm Sexy And I Know It....  Ick.  I blush every time I hear it. I dance every time I hear it too... I dance as though I think I'm sexy and know it.  I'm not gonna lie...

But the thought of a bunch of virile bachelors gyrating and grunting and flexing whilst singing, "I WORK OUT!" makes me terribly uncomfortable.  It's alright to be sexy.  And I feel it's okay to know it, to a degree.  But I must draw the line at singing about being sexy and knowing it in public.  Poor form, I say.  Poor form.  Hypocritical?  You decide.

Anywho... I GOT TO DANCE TONIGHT!!!!!  YEAH!  MEEEE!  And not in my kitchen either! Or in my bathroom with the potty brush!  Or at my vanity with the blow dryer!  I danced to real music with real people in the ACTUAL ROOM!

It was the most fun I've had in a long time.  Dancing is on my top 3 list of funnest things to do with your body.

Granted, I was stuck behind the candy table and forced to wear black as a Mommy Volunteer.  But I DANCED!

I was the only mommy in a floor length dress.  Or a dress at all for that matter.  So Lemito of me.  Love that! Dressing up makes me HAPPY! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!

Maya was reluctant to attend the Daddy/ Daughter Sweetheart Dance on the grounds that it was "weird".  She finally consented to go when she understood that she is our last little girl and Daddy and I would cry ourselves to sleep on our huge pillows if we could not participate.  No pressure.

I had to beg her to let me curl her hair.  She did let me paint her nails pink though.  But refused to allow me pick her clothes or apply sparkly eye shadow and a touch of blush and perhaps a smidgen of lip gloss even though I BEGGED.

"PLEASE, PLEASE let me put a teeny tiny bit of makeup on you," I whined.

"No, Mom. Please NO."

"PLEASE, YES, Maya!  You are my last little girl!  I need to make you look like a baby dolly!"

"Ew.  Mommy.  No."

And that was that.

My heart melted at the dance tonight when the music man played the country song, I'm going to miss this.

I looked around the room and saw 150 daddies with 150 little girls.  Many of the tiny females danced in their daddies' huge arms.  They swayed back and forth and smiled up at the men in their lives. There was safety in those arms.  I got misty.

My own husband danced with my sweet Maya.  I am grateful to have a sensitive man willing to get dressed up on a Saturday night and attend the Candyland Elementary School Dance. My sensitive man doesn't dance much, as a rule.  The sacrifice was great on his part.

I really am going to miss this.


The last half hour of the dance Maya joined me behind the candy bar and we JAMMED!  We danced to all KINDS of songs ranging from Y.M.C.A. to some Lady Gaga song.

It would seem from the pictures my husband snapped willy nilly that I have an exceptionally expressive face when I dance.  Not all of the expressions are terribly flattering, I'm afraid.  But apparently, this is what I look like...

In addition, Maya chose the prefect fluffery bouncing swishing swashing skirt for the occasion.

A wonderful time was had by all.

I hesitate in adding this last bit for fear you will (wrongly) assume I'm sexy and I know it, but I would be remiss if I did not share with you The Story Of The Slimy Single.

The Story Of The Slimy Single is merely the tale of a daddy sans wedding ring who thought he might get him some sugar at the Candy Bar.

My husband saw him swim circles about my booth, like a shark.  He would at long last drag his daughter, who would rather have been dancing, to inquire about the licorice or sour patch kids or some confection equally as masculine.

"Howz business?" he said at one point with a sleazy wink.

"We're doing great," I replied mildly knowing my husband was behind me ready to grab Sleaze Man by his pencil neck in the Candyland.

"I was hoping there would be some single chicks here tonight.  He he he."

"You've come to the wrong place for that..." I said.

He guffawed.

Gross.  I hate when people guffaw.

I suppose Slimy might be popular with some ladies in the playing field.  He was not bad looking, per se.  it was just the goopy sloopy sloppy ploppy vibe of the man.  Predatory, a bad way...

Slimy had all the makings of a Cheeseball, what with all the shiny grease in his longish black hair, his black tucked-in shirt unbuttoned just enough for kinky chest hairs to peek a boo I see you, and his crisp black slacks pressed within an inch of their lives topping spit shined black shoes that spun on a dime for my benefit.

Slimy winked and jitterbugged and shook his skinny hiney directly in front of my table for two hours.

I paid very little mind.  I was enjoying my job of playing Mrs. Willy Wonka far too much to care about Slimy and his hiney.

"I'm going to kill that guy," said my patient husband.  "Every five minutes he looks over at you to try to catch your eye."

"Ew," said I, looking up to see if it was true.

It was.

Double ew.

"I don't like that this is the most popular booth in the entire place," said my observant husband.  "Suddenly grown men like gummy bears?"

"Well, there's a lot of yummy candy at this booth..." I said.

"Yeah, that guy is hopin' to score some of THIS yummy candy," he said gesturing to my whole entire person.

"Look, baby, the only man that is gonna get THIS sugar *gesturing to my whole entire person*  is YOU.  That guy is a joke." I laughed for emphasis.

 I continued,  "There ain't NO WAY.  Not if I was single.  Not before I met you.  Not after I met you.  Not if you died.  Not in a box.  Not with a fox. Not in the rain.  Not on a train.  Not here or there.  I would not could not ANYWHERE...".

And that is The Story of The Slimy Single.