I need help.

I watched a cell-phone-camera video the other day of me dancing with a friend at Cooter and my wedding.

Well, it's wasn't so much us dancing as it was my friend slinging me around. And me awkwardly trying to keep up.

Even a wedding dress can't make a marionette look graceful. In fact, referring to myself as a marionette is insulting to puppets.

You know what I looked like? One of those children's toys that collapses when a button is pushed. Because it loosens the taut strings that keeps it rigid.

I'm all elbows and chin when I try to groove.

It doesn't help that I'm tall, either. So these long limbs just flail with the grace of a falling egg.

It brings back painful memories of when I was in high school gymnastics. When I would dance on the beam.

"Perhaps we should just focus on the skills and tumbling," my coach said when I attempted a graceful arm movement. Woman fail.

I even took a pole dancing class the other day. Seriously. Seeing myself in the mirror got me so nervous that my hands kept sweating. Which made it even harder to dance. Which made me stiffer and ... The instructor was very kind. Perhaps I'll go back?

Or perhaps I'll just get so drunk the next time I have to dance, that I won't care.

As long as no one takes any video.