Dancing Queen

Oldie but goody.
Some time ago, and I will not acknowledge how long as it may date me :o, I went out with the girls to do some dancing. I was wearing pleather pants (I'm afraid that dates it right there) and was looking forward to listening to music and having some laughs with the girls.
I remember the pants started to get hot right away. Sweat was starting to trickle down my legs. No matter. A little bit o' sweaty leg will not stop me.... I was there for a good time.
I was there to donce.
And donce I did. I shimmied and shake with the best of them.
As we danced, a group of guys join us on the dance floor, and I decide it is time to bump it up a notch. I'm going to pull out all the stops and come up with a move that will blow them all away. I decide a high-kick is the way to impress them all.
A masterfully executed, right to the rhythm of the music, a super fantastic high kick.
Yes, that will do it.
I unleash the kick.
It is phenomenal.
Then something gives... the closest I can describe it would be my butt muscle. I double over, I cannot move. The butt muscle has frozen.
One of my friends and a couple of the dancing guys next to us literally carry me off the dance floor.
I breathe like a woman in labor. The pain starts to lessen. My people get me in a sitting position.
I spend the rest of the night on a stool in a corner.

Out of commission with a broken butt muscle and pleather-induced sweaty-covered legs. Such is the fate of over-ambitious high-kickers.