You take the mirrors off your ceiling and put them on the walls.
You have black and white feet.
You go Swinging on the way to a Swing lesson.
You eat more than your own weight in food every day.
The first question you ask a girl is "How much do you weigh?"
You think that the next number after eight is one.
When you pick up girls, you pick up girls...
You no longer buy clothes you can't dance in.
Someone says vintage, they're not talking about wine.
You frequently show up at work with a limp and/or bruises.
You can't pass a shoe store without checking to see if they have spectators,
even if you already have several pairs.
You carry luggage to social events but aren't planning a trip.
Your underwear is an occasionally visible part of your evening ensemble.
You can't watch other forms of dance without trying to identify moves that
could be turned into Swing steps or aerials.
You Swing in the gas station parking lot while waiting for a cab.
You spend every long weekend at Swing camps, workshops or competitions.
You schedule business trips around dance nights.
You only go home to sleep, to do laundry and to repack your dance bag.
You eat your main meal of the day at one in the morning.
You think about Swing whenever you're not actually doing it.
Your non-dance friends keep hoping that you'll come to your senses so they
can see you in person again.
You find you have more in common with the W.W.II vets in the VA than your
friends and fellow students.
Your heartbeat is an eight-count.
Aerials? Did someone say Aerials?
You mutter "philistine" under your breath when you see (gasp) clip suspenders.
Your wife wonders why you must have a suspended wood dance floor in your
basement.
The Salvation Army people are getting suspicious.
You saw Swing Kids five times and you didn't even like it.
The only thing you can think of doing with a time machine is going back to
the forties and picking up some vintage threads.
When you have a chance to video tape sexy sexy ladies and studley guys, you
aim the camera only at their feet.
You are a woman and you begin shopping for underwear at Sports Authority,
instead of Victoria's Secret.
Your newest line is "Hey, are those Bleyers?" and you really do want to talk
about shoes.
Your friends no longer bother to ask you what you're doing on Friday, Saturday,
Sunday...nights.
You think an iced bottle of water is the ultimate prize for a dance contest.
You routinely bring a change of clothes, water, and a towel or two for a
night out.
You don't wear your dance shoes off the dance floor.
You sweat through your dance partner's shirt.
Most of your CDs are AAD.
You evaluate the quality of CD players based on whether they skip when you
and two of your closest friends jump up and down right next to them.
You don't need a sweater in January.
Your non-dancing friends (all two of them) start to refer to you as "obsessed"
or "rabid."
Your dancing friends refer to you as "obsessed" or "rabid."
You tell those two non-dancing friends NOT to come visit you any weekend
a big swing event is on because you know they won't want to go and you'll
either go and feel guilty, or miss it and MISS IT!!!
You drink more than your own weight in water every day.
People know and greet you only by a nickname, not of your own choosing, bestowed
upon you by fellow dancers.
You bought a copy of Disney's "The Jungle Book" to see the animated Lindy
dancing monkeys.
People could read a message written on the soles of your shoes during your
part in the jam.
You make people gasp when you dance.
You make people laugh when you dance.
Alcohol impairs your dancing instead of loosens you up.
Home improvement includes removing carpeting, installing wood floors, and
putting mirrors on the walls.
