I have tickets to see the Ladyboys of Bangkok with some friends on Friday night! As you may have guessed by the lively little exclamation mark I am quite excited, having heard great things about the show. And yet, my excitement is tinged with trepidation. Because, most situations involving music and alcohol are accompanied by my secret phobia: Dancing (dun, dun, duuuuuuuuunnnnn!). My Chorophobia - yes! It has a proper name and everything! - has always blighted my life. At college discos I would be the token girl, sitting on the sidelines with the menfolk. At University, a common measurement of how much alcohol I had consumed was my resistance to the dancefloor. The scale went from 2 pints = having to be literally dragged whilst taking the table and several chairs I was clinging on to with me, to a bottle of spirits later = whooping "Oooh I love this song! Come on you boring bastards!" and throwing myself around for one song before having to sit down before falling over.
I blame my size. I'm 5'10" and quite honestly have never grown into my size. Lanky people the world over will know what I mean when I say that. As a teenager I was acutely aware of my resemblance to Crazy-legs Crane, and when all your friends are a nice normal height it's easy to become fixated on being Gulliver amongst a crowd of Lilliputian girls. And dancing merely draws attention to this, as my legs and arms go their own way and my torso sways awkwardly. It does seem to have gotten worse as I've got older; no matter how drunk I get sobriety slaps me around the face as soon as anyone utters those dreaded words "You coming to dance?". And so, as the Scissor Sisters so eloquently put it, "I don't feel like dancin', no sir, no dancin' today". Or Friday. Or pretty much any other day.
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