“Babe, let’s do it. Let’s wrestle each other.”
Shake of the head (no).
“Come on, p-l-e-a-s-e?”
“No.”
A silent “fine” from moi.
The picture to the left is of my daughters getting ready to rumble (this family party occurred sometime over the summer). Isn’t that a great picture? Don’t they look like they are ready to have some F-U-N?
This seemed to be a pivotal moment for me. I thought, “What just happened? Are we really too old to have goofy fun? Really?”
Is this going to be the rest of my life? No more goofy fun? Just boring middle-age whatever?
The incident made me sad. I don’t want to be too old or too stuffy or too proper to sumo wrestle. But, it was only one teeny tiny episode, right?
Wrong.
I recently attended a Chris Isaak concert (Chris Isaak Wicked Game YouTube video). HE. WAS. AWESOME.
Once Chris started crooning, I wanted to do what most fun people do at concerts – stand up and dance all night! But, NOOOOOO.
There was no dancing – just like Footloose. I wanted to boogie, but due to peer pressure (we were on the floor in the middle of the middle), I had to settle for chair dancing (and not the sexy kind as in let’s say, Flashdance – Sexy Chair Dance). My version of chair dancing probably looked more like squirming as if I were discreetly trying to fix a wedgie.
Poor Chris. He’ll probably never come back to my stuffy, proper city that doesn’t groove to the beat (dead inside, the entire lot of ’em). Why would he? How fun could it possibly be to play for a crowd that acted like limp, wet rags? About as fun as getting poked in the eye with a hot poker I would imagine.
So, is that the way it’s going to be? No sumo wrestling? No dancing? I’m not quite ready to play dead yet.
Who’s with me?
The Engledow Chronicles 
It has to be said: That picture is way cool.
This post is very deep. I’d like to think I’d participate in that … activity. But, truth be told, I probably wouldn’t. There might not even be sufficient quantities of Jack to make it happen.
I’ve often pondered this. When I was younger I was a wild man. I’d break loose on the dance floor. Among all my friends I was the one that ALWAYS came back with a phone number. I think women responded to my WTH attitude and carefree nature.
Somehow, since then, I’ve changed. As my wife describes it, it’s a two-word phrase that starts with “tight.” It’s like I became British or something. (I’m using that word in A Fish Called Wanda sense.)
So you missed the Chris Isaak thingy. (Whoever that is.) There’s always next time. Meanwhile you can don one of those sumo suits and post the video on the net. That would show just how carefree you can be! Yeah, that’s a dare. 🙂
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Next time I have the opportunity to don a sumo wrestling costume, I’m doin’ it! And, I may just accept your challenge!
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I’m with ya, Jen. You know I would wrestle you any time!
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I am so with you. If you can’t let it go and be silly once in a while how will you keep from dying of boredom?
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Mercy me, I’m a grandma of two, and I dance the salsa, cha-cha, bachata—all the sexy dances! And I know who Chris Isaak is, that hunkarooni. Jen, my husband won’t dance, but I didn’t let that stop me. Life’s too short!
When we were dating he once said, “You’re a riot!” I let myself get bogged down with serious parenting issues, so a decade went by. And another. I went to my first dance class in the summer of ’06 and that was that. My life changed. My body changed. How I view aging changed. My marriage changed—100% better! I teach dance now, and that’s how I get my dancing in without having to beg the hubby.
If it’s what your soul moves you to do, do it. That applies to sumo wrestling, which I haven’t done, or skydiving, ziplining, public speaking (all of which I’ve done), and whatever else!
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