Shake it

"Shake yo' booty, honey child!" Lavonda, all three hundred fifty pounds of her jiggling along with her bright orange hula hoop earrings, gold necklaces, and watermelon breasts. Lady Gaga played on the sound system at the 509. Friday evening 10:45 p.m. as all the chic 30-somethings sauntered in, grabbing martinis and doobies, heading to the dance floor where Lavonda and I were in the groove. Just like Lady Gaga's song promised.

"Whoa, honey!" I screeched out, voice rising and scratching at the top. I could never get down like Lavonda.

"Ah, honey, just dance. Lemme do the singing. Hey, there, Miss Thing, yeah, you over there, come on over join us. We got a fine thing going on!"

We were joined by Miss Thing, the bar's resident drag queen, a 65-year old former Navy sea captain with a figure like John Goodman and a mouth like Lenny Bruce. She was dressed in a strapless with bronze sequins and black pumps, black eyeshadow, paint-on Elizabeth Taylor beauty mark, and white hair coifed like George Washington. The hair was real. I'd seen Miss Thing in dude get-up walking on Main Street last week, melting in the heat. Dressed in short shorts, a halter top, and the First President's hair.

So I aimed to get in the groove, Lavonda and Miss Thing rounding out our trio. Never too shy to show my stuff, I took off my shirt and danced it up with good ole' Lavonda.

"Whoa, honey, you got a muffin top going on there!" Lavonda gave me a jab in the side and cackled like a hen. Yeah, I'd lost my buff gym body, or at least most of it. The six pack was still there but under a jolly layer of twenty years' croissants, jelly beans, and Chardonnay.

"Yeah, well maybe it's time to shake the muffin top! Miss Thing over there, let's see her shake her thing, too."

"Honey, I ain't shaken my thing in twenty-five years!" cried Miss Thing, glancing briefly down her crotch and clutching pearls in mock horror. "Only thing I shake these days is my turkey neck!"

Lavonda, Miss Thing, and me -- shaking it all on the dance floor. The hell with the drugged out thirty-somethings and their tight young bodies. We're going to shake our fat and wrinkles all over them. Scare the living daylights out of them.