The Politics of Dancing

I was once a decent looking gal, and I certainly know my dancing. (wink wink nudge nudge *cough* poles & g-strings)
But I saw some photos taken at a wedding I attended with Lisa this past weekend and the only word I can think of to describe the way I look is "special". Wait, here are a few more:

Epileptic
Jerky
Moronic
Unflattering

The only people who would have put money in my pants that night would have been kind folks trying to help someone down on their luck buy a cup of coffee. I still have splinters from where someone tried to shove a popsicle stick in my mouth so I didn't bite off my tongue.
(and I'm being very kind to myself)