I sabotage them. Choose not to partake of them. Think of all of the reasons why the laundry needs to be ironed before I can have them.
Why is it so hard for me to relax and just have fun?
It’s not my comfort zone. To get dressed in 70’s clothes for a disco party to celebrate a precious friend’s birth. Her life. I feel like the uncool kid trying to fit in with everyone else.
Why am I so awkward?
Thankfully, I choose to battle the excuses not to go, the dance floor is dark, the disco ball doesn’t make me too dizzy, and I have a fabulous dance partner.
It would be hilarious if the music stopped abruptly and the lights all switched on, revealing how we REALLY look instead of how we THINK we look, this awesome group of disco dancers.
I’m glad that I did it. Sabotaged my sabotage. Took the leap to dig through the closet for something suitable to wear. Rocked the purple sister scarf from the Christmas when one of us lived in China, playing up the one 70’s thing I had going for me…my hair.
It was a perfect mix of fun and connection; bits of crazy dancing interspersed with heart conversations. Yes, they happen even at a disco party.
I am blessed in the midst of my mess.
Thankful for this beautiful friend (who was NOT the birthday girl, btw) and time to connect both on the dance floor AND in the kitchen.