Dirty Dancing

I gave Adam one last night out tonight--Friday beer with his manly architecture friends from VA Tech. I was offered to be set free with him by our friend Kat, but when you're measuring 47 inches around at 40 weeks gestation the idea of a crowded bar on Friday night isn't exactly appealing, even if they are giving out free Guiness, the best beer for breastmilk production.

So I stayed home and watched "Dirty Dancing." I faintly remember watching this movie with Jen Osborne back in middle school. I don't really think I have watched it since, but man, this movie is sheer perfection. The cheese factor is high, but it has real life class issues and some weird race statements in it as well (wtf with the tap dancing old Black guy?!). But, as much as I did look at it with a hyper-critical overly-educated lens this time, I couldn't help but be taken aback by the sheer movement of it all. Patrick Swayze was perfection in it. So hot: That body! Those dance moves! That combed over wavy hair! The sly smile! S-I-G-H. Wowza. And Jennifer Grey was so much more attractive pre-nose job. Makes me happy my schnoz has remained intact, in spite of my piggy bank efforts throughout middle school for a new nose.

The film also reminded me of the only tango moment in my life: my ten year high school reunion. Slightly tipsy and recently engaged Adam and I were dancing and he decided to drag me across the floor with my arms strewn around his neck. When I let go, the skinny spaghetti strap on my dress (which another classmate was wearing--JCrew, damn you!) snapped, revealing my boob. Well. . .Let's just say the breeze on my tit didn't alert me and I just kept dancing. My other classmate's wife at the time (and let me clarify, my only classmate from this high school that I ever felt a kindling of love/like/lust for) grabbed my boob, my dress, and pinned it back together. Good times.

Maybe somewhere in cyberspace there's a photo of my pre-pregnancy, pre-nursing perky little boob from my 10 year high school reunion. If anyone has it, please pass it along. I'd love to get a glimpse of it now...

And, as for Patrick Swayze, what a divine dancer. Amid my tears due to the sheer corn factor at the end of the movie combined with my pregnancy hormones, I shed a few for the loss a White guy who could move like that. Damn Swayze, you were fine.