No one told me I was a blimp!

Ahoy there me hearties!
Jodie, Alaska, mentioned pictures of the OWBB tribe and I nipped back to my MSN site to have a peek at the gals, remembering we grouped up for a photograph in San Antonio. Dang me, it's not there!
I did, however, see the Branson, Missouri photographs where y'all kindly gave me my beautiful pendant engraved with the piccie of me wiv my mummy. Well, it says it's me. It doesn't look like the me now! I was a blimp! No one told me that! Y'alls terribly polite!
By the way, I'm listening to The very best of Cubanismo at the moment - conjouring up some sunshine and rhythm, doncha know? If I could sambo or mamba ... I think that's the wrong way around - I'd be up and doing right now.
Truth of it is, I did try salsa lessons, with Bree, but I had to be the guy and though I got the hip movements for the first three or four steps, repeated over and over, when the twirl came I totally lost direction and the will to dance!
I was quite a good athelete at school ... Rimmer, show us your bends and stretches! Rimmer, show us your service! (pardon?), Rimmer, climb the rope, Rimmer, show us your bully off, Rimmer .... OK, but when it came to dancing.
"Rimmer, it's heel and toe and step and step, stupid girl!"
Hmmm, can't be good at everything!
Pa-in-law was a Mason and I dreaded the annual dinner dance so Ex and I (which we weren't then, of course, ex, I mean, cos we wouldn't have bothered doing it) took a beginners' course in ballroom dancing.
Oh I hated that, with a vehemence! A shudder goes down my spine whenever I hear that Tammy's in love song, the old bloody hooty owl one. That was the waltz. But, little rottweiler that I am, I stuck it through to the examination. The lady and gentlman instructor each took us as a partner and cussed my way around that floor!
I did get the badge but didn't dare go back for a further course cos I made the instructor blush with my expletives!
On the other hand, free expression .. that's my bag! When I was little (ok, young) I used to turn the radio up and dance around the kitchen, weaving in and out of the chairs and tables, slow and fast, singing along whether I knew the words or not... if I'd seen that film with Mickey Rooney where he runs up the walls I'd probably have done that too (ah Yankee Doodle Dandy?).
On the way home on rainy days I'd emulate Gene Kelly, stomping in the rain and then get told off for having wet socks. Can't think why it mattered, they got wet being washed later anyway!
Now I'm thinking back to a Christmas spent at The Breakers (click on it!) Palm Beach in Florida. Had me a posh frock on, bedecked in turquoise sequins. All the escapees from New York were there, the doyennes of society - in black. The waitress looked at me, taking our order and said: "Oh, turquoise, such a ... a change!"
Sitting close to the dance floor was an old gentleman wearing a full dress uniform, white ... like Richard Gere in that film .. someone'll tell me what it was called - no need, just remembered An Officer and a Gentleman ... the uniform looked like his, I mean, but with lots of scrambled egg on it. No, he hadn't spilled his dinner down himself - gold braid. He looked very smart but it was sad seeing him there alone.
At the next table was an aged lady, also alone. For her Christmas Eve dinner she was eating caviar. That's all, just caviar!
She had what appeared to be a silver globe on the table and every now and again she'd slide up the domed lid, take a tiny spoon and dip it into the caviar, tease the little fishy, popping bubbles into her mouth, put the spoon down and close the lid again.
Just observations.
Anyway, despite being an outcast in turquoise I danced the night away. Had one of those toilet problems again though!
I was wearing an opal ring that had belonged to an aunt, which my uncle gave me as a keepsake. It was very pretty but had lots of stones and I didn't want to ladder my tights so I took it off in the stall to pull me bits and pieces back up.
Back in the room a few hours later, showered and in a gown, I suddenly remembered the ring - I hadn't put it back on.
I rang down to the desk to see if anyone had handed in a ring. The housekeeper asked me to describe the ring and I thought it had a green stone at the top of it.
Ten mins later there was a knock on the room door and I answered in my gown - well, I was wearing it so I would, wouldn't I?
The concierge gave me a strange look.
'I have a ring, ma'am but it doesn't have a green stone, it has a red stone.'
'That's OK, it must have been a red one then!'
I put it on my finger to show him it was mine - like it was going to light up and genie would pop out and say "I belong to Julie," and it slipped around, cos it was too large.
He looked at me suspiciously and I blurted that it was my Auntie Barbara's ring, but it was mine now, because she was dead and other inanities, blathering on about leaving it in the loo, feeling guilty as if it was not MY ring. Well, he didn't know what a loo was anyway so I gave up.
When I looked in the mirror after his departure I realised my gown was revealing rather more than I might have hoped. I suppose that's why he didn't stay long to argue?
The following morning, going down to breakfast I followed a trail of turquoise sequins ... did I roll back from the festivities?
We walked into the town after breakfast. It was terribly hot coming back, my feet were swelling and almost being made into chips thanks to the strapped shoes I was wearing, my cotton dress had a polyester lining and I was sweating buckets in it.
I was turning my head every 2 minutes hoping for a taxi to come along while partner was marching his customary 10 paces ahead declaring HE had no problem with the heat.
Back at the hotel I was drenched and miserable and had one poxy tissue in my handbag trying to mop at myself.
I didn't dare walk through the hallowed front portals (do the virtual tour, above) and you'll see what I mean) so skipped around the back and managed to nip into an elevator just as the doors were about to close.
Aha, safe, I thought.
Not so, the doors opened again and a porter pushed one of those huge suitcase trollies in .. I think I'd jumped into the cargo flight! I smiled at him and made polite conversation, discreetly dabbing and my dampness, the while and he smiled back .. quite broadly in fact ... and got out a couple of floors up.
Doors closed again, a sigh of relief, turning around, I realised the back wall of the lift was mirrored and there, staring back at me was a very red faced, wet haired lady with bits of tissue stuck all over her face and neck like she'd just had a battle with a cut throat razor - and lost!