We saw the Dance Saint Louis’s performance last night. Normally, just Anne and Joanie have season tickets, but Dance STL offered up extra seats as part of a season finale, so Vicki and I got to attend too. The dance troupe was Body Traffic, a seven person LA group. The show was preceded by dinner at Winslow’s Table. Most of their performance were forgettable, except for their final number. Set to the sound of Dean Martin singing That’s Amore, three male dancers strutted their stuff wearing nothing but dance belts (Google it).

Dancing in only half light, these amazingly well muscled men were a sight to behold, and their physique could not be more different than my own. So, it should be no surprise when I got called out on Friday for showing too much skin during Gyro. In our Gyro class, we are expected bend, stretch and gyrate, all without showing any butt crack. Apparently one of the delicate ladies and they are all women at Gyro took exception to my southern exposure. Subsequently, Anne dug out of the closet a t-shirt that she had gotten me for just such an eventuality, or I could go a whole other way and don my own dance belt.

When my moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, that’s amore…