I am Lauren, booty-shaking enthusiast

After saying our goodbye's, I hear my mom's voice quickly utter "shake your booty," and before I have time to make any sort of comment (which most likely would have been a "huh?" or a "moooooooom") she has already hung up.

Though the utterance caught me off guard, it wasn't entirely out of nowhere. I was headed, that evening, to a local event called Blume, at which art would be created, displayed, and sold. DJs would attempt to outdo each other on the tables while attendees of all kinds would attempt to outdo each other on the dance floor.

Upon entering the local gay club, Pantheon, for the first time, my friend Kristen and I surveyed the scene. There was a lot to take in. Paintings, photographs, and sculptures lined the walls, but what interested me most was the assortment people. This is typically the case for me in these types of situations. Sit me down in a corner and I'll be entertained all night long just watching people. Unfortunately, for me to do this and only this would be considered definitely antisocial and probably pretty creepy, so social norms force me to partake in an activity I sincerely dread, mingling. Since there were few people at the event we actually knew (though there were countless familiar faces) Kristen, Michelle, and I stuck together, wandering around the club, stopping at various spots to chit-chat (with each other, of course) in hopes of some good concurrent people watching, the best of which was indisputably found on the dance floor.

It's not unusual for me to feel uncomfortable in such situations. I see people out there shaking their tails, looking absolutely ridiculous, yet having the time of their lives. I know I'll have fun once I crack open my shell (a shell of self-consciousness, perhaps?) but the big question is, will I open up, and if so, what's it going to take? In this particular situation, it was my mom's voice resounding in my mind, "shake your booty." She left no room for questioning or comment. It was a demand, and being the obedient daughter that I am, I simply had to obey.

So I let myself get warmed up. I never want to get out there right away, because I know once I start dancing, I'm useless for any kind of conscious activity. Once I start to shake my behind, all cares and woes are forgotten. If I'm going to get up there and shake, let me tell you, it takes a lot of shaking to shake off all those cares and woes, not just a little bouncing up and down. For me, on the dance floor, it's all or nothing, and this particular night, I'll tell you, I gave it my all.

This was the best I'd felt in quite some time. Booty-shaking, when done the right way (partnerless and inhibition-free) is both an artistic exercise and an aerobic one. It was without a doubt the most I've sweat in quite some time, and by far the best workout I've had since I can remember. So, I've resolved that it is necessary that I make myself get out and go dancing at least once every other month. I advise and encourage you to do as I did, heed my mother's sage advise and "shake your booty."