Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away (or so it seems these days) I wasn’t the Crazy Garden Lady, I was in fact the Dancing Queen. I can canned my way through a life where feather boas and rhinestones and false eyelashes were the norm, and offices and permanent residences and 9 to 5 were things I read about in books.
I lived my dream for five years and then reality bit me on the fishnetted butt when the ankle and the knee and the hip flexor and the hamstring all went at the same time. And having no talent for choreography and no patience for teaching, I did what all good retired showgirls do and segued into hospitality.
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