I’ve got a funny walk. My mother, a professional dancer, the goddess of poise, said she might send me to charm school if I continued galumphing. I tried to stay out of her sight. Failing that I would stay seated in her presence. Because the thought of charm school freaked me out. It sounded like a severe judgemental place. Worse than my catholic school run by an order of sadistic nuns.
Now I watch a show called Charm School on TV. They aren’t taught to walk gracefully. They don’t have to because they can all pole dance. These ladies focus on learning how not to bitch slap and puke in public.