I Wanted To Be A Belly Dancer

Yes, I wanted to be a Belly Dancer.  Not No Midlife Crisis I want to be a Belly Dancer, this goes all the way back since I was like 8 or 9.  I remember it was Halloween.  All day long I kept thinking I coudn't wait for nightime so that I could be a Belly Dancer.  In my 7 or 8 year old mind I would imagine a Belly Dancer that I saw on tv or I would think of Cher.  So my mind would flip flop from a Belly Dancer to a Gypsie.  All I knew is I wanted to be an exotic dancer, not no Cinderella or Snow White, a Belly Dancer or a Gypsie.  How I loved scarves, jewlery, baubles and bling.  Which reminds me the time I put a button on my nostril and it went up my nose or when I super-glued a sequin to the middle of my forhead.  That's another blog and another day,  Getting back Gypsies, Tramps, & Thieves.....I didn't have much at home to dress up like my desired belly dancer & gypsie that I would imagine, but I did the best I could, I then had to tell the neighbors what I was because I probably looked like a dishelved "Hobo", my father's favorite word.  I now tell him I think you mean to say "Homeless"..... He's 73 years old and says, "No, I mean to say "Hobo".  Fastforward 25 years I hear Sting sing Desert Rose.  I'm so hooked on that song.  I play it over and over and over thinking I really should look into belly dancing classes.   Fastforward 13 years and I have a craft booth at an Arts Fair.  I was so excited because my booth was right next to the bandstand.  The excitement wore off soon.  I forgot I was in Cajun Culture and the only bands playing were country & western or like I call it, jankety jank music.  Sorry, I'm a Cajun Gal but I do not like the music of my heritage.  This fair was all day Saturday and all day Sunday.  Low and behold I see Belly Dancers.  They were going to perform on the stage.  Lets see, you had the young beautiful girls showing their midriffs, then there was the middle-aged gals like myself wearing a leotard to cover up their middle-aged stomachs.  I thought to myself... "So what's the point?"  I stepped away from my booth to watch the Belly Dancers perform.  They start the music.  I thought, "Oh, Wow, I love this music."  I started to sway and move my hands to the music.  Tick Tick Tick Ticking Of Time, I realized wait a minute, this music is starting to get annoying.  I would have to practice endless hours to this music.  Then the imcee would get the audience involved with that trill that Arabic women do with their tongue.  Guess what I learned?... Arabic women cover their mouth when they do the trill so?.....so?.... so?..... so their false teeth don't fall out?..... so their tooth don't fly out?.....DESIREE THAT'S MEAN.....Come now I needed something funny, I would say the same joke about Old Cajun Gals too, or should I say tooth?  Where does the time go?... The chances of me being an Exotic Belly Dancer or like my 84 year old best friend calls them "whores" her favorie word.... "whores"....in her little old cajun accent it comes out like whohers.....oh, and her other favorite words, "When are they bringing me the Eucharist?" ....Chances of me being a Exotic Belly Dancer?......Zero to None.......YiYiYiYiYiYiYiYiYi ... The end~