I still remember being involuntarily assigned to be one of the "tuxedo dancers" in a take-off of the Marilyn Monroe "Diamonds are a Girls Best Friend" number. On one of the hottest days in August, six of us had to don faux tuxedos (and they were wool), pull our 80's teased hair into tight buns, wear ill-fitting top-haps, and twirl around one of our cutest, petitist, blondest members as she warbled modified lines of that classic. Yes, we were six of the tallest girls in the chapter and I am not a gifted dancer. Everytime I hear that song, I still feel resentful.
