I had a moment with Husband this morning and wanted to share it with you…
I’m standing in the bathroom getting ready for work. Naked. Well, not completely naked – I had on eye shadow. Husband comes in to brush his teeth and we’re both going about our business.
He mumbles something along the lines of, “God, I’m getting old. My hair is all salt and pepper…” He said something after that but I stopped listening because something magical happened.
A disco ball dropped from the ceiling and my deodorant transformed into a rhinestone-studded microphone and I started throwing down the lyrics to Push It…
Sa, Sa, Salt and Peppa’s here and we’re in effect
Want you to push it back
Coolin’ by day and at night – workin’ up a sweat
Now, I’m a big girl. Naked, I look like a cross between Homer Simpson’s face and an Incan fertility goddess. That’s right… let all that sink in.
Of course, by the second verse I’m throwing in some wicked dance moves. I don’t know what it’s called but I was really working that one where you pump your elbows while staring back at your booty.
I glance at my poor Canadian, white bread husband and he’s staring at me like a stoned mouth-breather. And he is mes. mer. ized.
Then reality kicks in, he comes to his senses and does what needed to happen. He starts smacking my butt in perfect rhythm to my mad vocals.
Yo, yo, yo, yo baby pop
Yeah, you, come and give me a kiss
Better make it fast or else I’m gonna get pissed
Can’t you hear the music pumping hard like I wish you would
Now push it
When the performance eventually came to an end we were laughing so hard we were doubled over and crying.
We both collapsed onto each other, breathless from laughter (and killer moves) and he said to me, “I’m going to have to remember this when we’re old and can’t get around anymore.”
And I knew at that moment that I should have been an eighties singer-slash-dancer. Because I killed that shit.