Being a stay-at-home mom is slowly but surely turning me into a socially awkward person. Oh, you don’t know what I mean? Let me show you.

Robbie and I went tailgating at an LSU game a few weeks ago. Yes, that is a stripper pole. Don’t you love how I’m gripping it for dear life? I could never, EVER be any kind of exotic dancer and the reasons are too numerous to list here … but I think you can see why.

Today I was talking about how I can’t seem to move my body in the snakelike motion that some women in my Zumba class do. I can’t do a body roll. I can’t shake my upper body. I can’t … shimmy. I’m basically an uptight white girl, but I keep going to Zumba because it’s fun. My friend Shannon shrugged and said, “It’s all about what high school you went to. That’s where you learn.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. My high school didn’t allow dancing — like, at all. Also on the list of forbidden things: unnatural-looking nail polish, caffeinated beverages, hand-holding with the opposite sex, and good music.

I am so screwed.