The other morning at 5:30 a.m. as my friends and I were walking down an icy street in our puffy parkas, a guy sitting in a car on the side of the road rolled down his window and said, "You guys look like dancers."
I thought he'd said, "You guys look like dancers." But how could that be possible? In what world do four middle-aged women wearing puffy parkas while worrying about breaking their hips look like dancers?
Obviously I didn't hear right. So I said, "What did you say?" And he said, "You guys look like dancers."
My friends and I found this deeply disturbing--who wouldn't?--so we picked up our pace and kept looking over our shoulders, hoping he wasn't following us to ask if he could punch our dance cards.
I told another friend about this yesterday and she said maybe our puffy parkas made our legs look really long and thin so that we looked like showgirls because you know how showgirls are--always parading down icy streets at 5 in the morning with gigantic fruit baskets on their heads. Not that we were wearing fruit baskets.
Anyway. The whole episode remains a mystery. What kind of dancers did we look like? Square dancers? Cloggers? If I ever see that guy again, I'll ask.
And I'll let you know.