Twerking is an occasional topic of discussion in our home. It is one of those things that certain people make their bodies do and fascinates the rest of us. I get that it’s a little bit dirty and suggestive, but put that aside for a moment. Can you do it? I bet you have tried in the bathroom mirror after watching a YouTube video. I have too.
According to my 13 year old daughter, it looks a lot like I’m having a seizure. Most of the parts on my body don’t shake or bounce all that well.
What is twerking?
Prior to writing this blog, I couldn’t have told you…exactly, so I did what every tech savvy person in the world does; I Googled it. The first thing that pops up is Wikipedia. Twerking is described as a sexually provocative dance style involving hip thrusting and a low squatting stance. That could also describe Pee Wee Herman’s dance to “Tequila”. (If you don’t remember that one, Google it.)
So, armed with this knowledge, I ensconced myself before the bathroom mirror and got my twerk on. Even to me, it looked more like an actor in a B movie earthquake than a sexually charged boogie. I was kind of jerky and rhythmless; think C-3PO trying to hula hoop. This was a bit of a blow to my somewhat oversized ego, because I have always liked to dance and consider myself fairly coordinated.
Let’s get serious
Finding that twerking was not an instinctive skill only made me more determined to solve the mystery. A brief search found a host of instructional videos on the internet. I chose one with an instructor called “Tweetboogie”. Duh, that’s a no-brainer! Tweetboogie was wearing tall boots, tights or leggings (I don’t know the difference), and a torn neck t-shirt that slipped off her shoulder Flashdance style.
The t-shirt off the shoulder is how I knew she was for real. I paused the video and ran to change. It was obvious you had to wear specific clothing to twerk. I did the best I could: logging boots, lycra running shorts, and, oh yes, ripped neck t-shirt. I was sexy personified. I felt a twitch begin in my pelvis, and would not be surprised if water rained down on me at any moment.
Before returning to Tweetboogie, I paraded through every room in the house ambushing my family; shaking, bumping and grinding until I was breathless. My 13 year old daughter, Taylor, chased me around the house trying to capture some video. I told her she had to wait until I had my new moves perfected. My wife just stared at me and said, “I have never wanted to do violence as bad in my life, as right this moment.” I wonder what she meant by that.
I replied, “Tweetboogie is all about the love, honey.” She stomped off muttering something about kicking Tweetboogie in the flashdance.
Drop it like it’s hot
I studied the instructional videos. I practiced the moves. It all comes down to bootie bouncing and pelvic thrusting, period. Try as I might, my bootie would not bounce. My family happily informed me it was due to my butt shape, which is “noassatall”. Taylor glee-fully Googled the “butt shape chart” for me to examine. Then she and my wife spontaneously dropped and began bootie-bouncing like pros. They even threw in some synchronized chest-popping just to spite me.
My wife said, “You need to drop this madness like it’s hot; only women can twerk.” (Taylor like back up: Drop it like it’s hot, drop it like it’s hot, drop it like it’s hot…) Tweetboogie had failed me. No wonder I couldn’t twerk; I wasn’t properly equipped.
If you come upon me with a faraway look in my eye, wide squatting stance, and twitching spasmodically; do not call for medical assistance. I am not having a seizure. I have momentarily been overcome with the need to bounce my “noassatall”. Just pass me by or take your video silently. I am fighting a one-man battle against inequality of the sexes.
C-3PO doing the hula hoop to “Tequila” in a flashdance t-shirt may suck, but Idaho certainly doesn’t.