I’d like to live by the words of Gaga when she preaches that everything will be okay if we just dance, but there’s shimmying to your little heart’s content in the safety of your bedroom and there’s trying to look cool doing it EVERYWHERE ELSE. WITH PEOPLE WATCHING. WHO HAVE ACCESS TO CAMERAS.
If you’ve won Dancing With the Stars, MacKenzie from Dance Moms or were on the drill team at my high school, scurry off, this post isn’t for you! I’m talking to those that love to pop it and drop it and put it in all the various places, but are confused as to why no one has come running to your side in hopes of joining your West Side Story gang. Could you just so happen to be… a bad dancer?
1. When You Slow Dance, You Save Room For Jesus
We know, middle school was a painful time. New zits and new feelings came just in time for Winter Formal, and your mom was probably a chaperone who watched you and your date like a hawk circling two frolicking kittens. However, those days are no more, so unless your elbows are locked in place like a Barbie doll (so sorry to any IRL Barbies out there, must be a tough life), lighten up, ya goon! If he wanted a stiff dance partner, he’d be outside caressing a statue. I’m also pretty sure physical contact cures cancer or something.
2. All Of Your Dance Moves Are Called “The [Some Inanimate Object/Wild Animal]”
The Lawnmower. The Shopping Cart. The Sprinkler. The Electric Slide. The Crabwalk. THE MACARENA. If it has to have some quirky name and/or group choreography only seen at weddings, it isn’t fierce. It exists so that your parents can brag about “getting jiggy” because they think we still use those words.
1) form diving position 2) Oliver Twist it 3) sass your date 4) sunbath upwards 5) do the Tut! 6) check yo’ back pockets 7) wiggle them back pockets 8) look around for whatever was supposed to be in your back pockets. then dive again!
And for those who find themselves inspired by the art of gardening;
Or for that person at the party who will only try to replicate the most famous pop star of all time for their moment of glory;
3. Your Rain Dances Cause Droughts
Do you ever wonder if the Dust Bowl of the 1930s was less a sassy act of Mother Nature and more of a result from some farmer’s daughter who decided to host a super awkward barn dance? Thanks a lot, Bessie. If you’ve ever single-handedly caused the destruction of a small village from endlessly practicing the worm to no avail, congratulations! You’re a bad dancer. But hey, at least you control the weather to some degree. So does Oprah.
4. In Your Eyes, Dance Dance Revolution = A Russian Ballet Company
Admit it, DDR is the like the Guitar Hero of dance skillzzz. Remember that scene from Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen where Lindsay Lohan “dance battles” Megan Fox at the arcade wearing a cut up Knicks jersey and baggy denim and you were like, “well, this is just about the worst thing to watch.” Because it is! Dance Dance Revolution, revolting against nothing but actual fun, might as well be hopscotch at a rave. You wouldn’t really bust out your abilities to leap around within a certain foot radius on the dance floor. The only thing at an arcade that takes TRUE DIVINE ELEGANCE AND SKILL is Skeeball and everyone knows that. Now get outta of my Putt Putt.
5. You’re A Sky Dancer
C’mon! Sky Dancer?! More like a really bedazzled fan. Slapping your date in the face and then helicoptering away is not the recipe for a stable social life.
This toy was really just a method of child abuse if you consider the endless twirls all those 9 year olds tried to replicate or the bruised faces they endured from said crash-landing “Dancers”.
6. Everyone Tells You You’re A Bad Dancer
One could say the most obvious giveaway to your rhythmic shortcomings will usually come in the form of your friends aggressively holding you back from the dance floor or being the only gal at Homecoming a fella hasn’t asked to awkwardly save room for Jesus with. How do I know?! Because, Uncoordinated Queens of the World, I am one of you. If I had a nickel for every time a roommate cautioned me that my hips, in fact, DO LIE after a Shakira YouTube session, or I have found myself halfway stuck on the ground mid-split, unable to lift up my own person, OR almost hit someone in the face with my flailing spaghetti arms in attempts to windmill as a distraction from the hostile disconnection they share with my other limbs, I’d have enough to buy my own in-house Dance Dance Revolution machine. But who cares, right? I will forever stick to my life philosophy of never dancing when I’m expected to, and always dancing when it makes you super uncomfortable.
Now let’s take a moment and relate to this brave soul.
Are you a bad dancer?
Featured image via BoiseWeekly