People, It totally slipped my mind, but I forgot to tell you that some time ago, I got married.
In fact, one day, I received a nice message from a stranger who simply said: I love you. As I found it very charming, I offered to lead him to marry me, and of course he immediately agreed. You'll admit you don't fall for wasting my time, right? Otherwise, his name is Thomas and he has a Blog (you can go for a walk, but personally I don't understand anything).
All right. Okay. It turns out that my husband is delicious, an engineer, and... a classical dancer (even though he's writing an opera).
Do I have to remind you of my experience?
When I was a pussy, my mom had decided that I would become a star dancer. So, she enrolled me at the Conservatouare (yes, in Beauvais over there in the Oise, there's a Conservatouare, with an old Italian lady who was always bawling that we were "new and fat").
At the end of the 3rd year, I was still at the same stage (it means that I had tripled the first class). I must say that I never managed to remember the sequences, the coussa choreographies. So during the end-of-year ballet, like a shameful illness, I was hidden in the background.
Cousin Mimine kept a videotape.
Well, that's edifying, I beg you to believe it...
Can you imagine a lovely ballet of little girls in pink tutus? And behind it, you visualize something shapeless, and obviously still doesn't understand what she's doing there. Still, I invented a great concept: slow motion spin! (that is to say, the time that the others turn 3 times, I finished the 1st...).
Anyway, anyway. Classical dance wasn't for me. I wasn't connected to the concept... And now that I married a dancer, I had to get back to that joke!
So, last time my husband took me to his class. He said to me:"My sweetheart, put your seant on this chair." I'm going to change and I'm coming to warm up in front of you. (yes, we want to be with my husband, we find it much more romantic). In the meantime, I started to watch what was going on around me, and that's when I noticed that the girls were all made with rubber bands. No, but I swear to you that when I saw them twisting in all directions like that, I was hurting them poor people...
There's my husband that came back and he was wearing the pantyhose. Kind of like that:
I said,"Rho my husband, but you're molded!" He said,"It's a sticky pantyhose, my darling." And then my husband started to warm up. And it hurt for him too. No, but frankly, how do you know what it takes to do things like that?? Dancers aren't people like us, actually. When they are born, you give them cuddly men in their bottle, and then they can knead themselves in all directions.
I put some gloss back on and asked:"Tell me my husband, you're not going to get hot like that? He said: ah but I reassure you my beloved, underneath I have a mini-short. Me: well... Well, I think I'm going to go... I started to get very hot inside myself, you know.
Don't cry... You're starting to know I don't like ugly people!
Then, then, I was told that I would attend the dance class by looking at my husband behind a window. As I was claustro, I said: my husband, we meet again after, and we will taste the best Croustibats of Paris! And I stroked his arms, and his hair (they're long, so he had them tied up). He said,"rho, but you're caressing my dick?" I said,"It's the only one I could touch you..."
Yes, we decided not to consume our nuptials right away. I also introduced her to Maya of Bencouscous and said to her:"Daughter, this is your father! He said: she's small, she's black, she's hairy. It's Surya Bonaly! (*)
I think our marriage is off to a great start!
This is not xenophobic, I remind you that I am African!