I have a confession.
I recently tried learning to twerk.
And failed miserably.
Here’s the thing. Before you start wondering whether your intrepid Lady Smut writer has lost her ever-lovin’ marbles, let me set the scene. First, it’s important to know that I’m not a fan of exercising. I do it, grudgingly, not because I like it or it’s fun or I get the “runner’s high” that so many rave about (frankly, I still doubt its existence). I do it because we all know it’s good for you and makes you feel good (after finishing, mind you). And, well, you’re just supposed to exercise. It’s a painful but necessary fact of life. Like a lip wax. But it’s such a draaaag! I kick and scream my way through every workout. So I had this idea, see? Where I thought I could make exercising fun? Which is how I landed on twerking.
Twerking is actually quite good exercise for your core. It makes your stomach strong. And probably flat, if you do it enough. And, well, Miley Cyrus can do it, so how hard can it be? Buoyed by this thought, I donned my exercise clothes, fired up YouTube, and found Keaira LaShae, who promised in her video to teach me how to twerk, booty pop and body roll.
(Interesting side note: although booty popping seems to be fairly similar to twerking, purists argue that twerking actually includes (or even requires) that the glutes move independently of one another. Which, frankly, looks a little freak of nature-ish to me. But I digress.)
So. OK. I watch the video, then hit play to re-watch, this time with me attempting to pop my booty right along with Keaira. It’s then that I’m smacked in the gut with a sad, harsh reality. Twerking is hard. First of all, my hips don’t seem physiologically able to move the way they’re supposed to. I could get them to go forward OK, but the backward thrusting motion went nowhere fast. My hips felt as brittle and stubborn as an old retired mule. And when I did manage to coax them into something at least suggesting a booty pop (in truth, more like a flail than a pop), my lower back let forth a wail of protest. Egad!
I decided I needed to take a step back and start with the fundamentals. In the video, Ms. LaShae demonstrates something called a hip tick. This, for unknown reasons, was something I could get a handle on. Progress! However, when she morphed the tick into one continuous motion (hip roll, people), this again became more complicated. I just cannot swivel my hips that quickly. It’s as if my ball and joint sockets are in serious need of some WD40. *sigh*
I have no aspirations to go clubbing anytime soon. As in never. But even if I did, as a female of the caucasion persuasion, I’d be under no peer pressure to start shaking my booty, neither tickin’ nor poppin’ nor twerkin’, oh my! But still. That’s not the point. It was exceedingly frustrating that I actually couldn’t do it. Suddenly I felt old. Used up. Washed out. Like a down-and-out former pro basketballer who drools more than dribbles. I felt as if I should be able to conquer this twerking business but my booty business was having none of it. It was humiliating, I tell ya. Humiliating.
Still, there’s a silver lining in all of this. I can’t twerk, so I don’t have to twerk. No more being painfully humbled by Ms. LaShae’s expert twerking ability, and no more getting the stink eye from my cats when I attempt that which I clearly should not.
Maybe I should consider pole dancing.