Standing in my underpants atop a box three feet in the air, I was sure this wasn’t what my mother had in mind when I began ballet lessons at age 3. On a whim, I had dressed up (or stripped down?) and gone to a go-go dancer audition at Lavo. I wasn’t expecting to be offered a job, but I was curious about what went on behind the scenes, which proved to be a lot of ass-shaking, hair-tossing and Flo Rida on repeat. I focused less on looking sexy and more on avoiding hitting the floor while getting low (note: with go-go boots on, I’m easily 6-3). Maybe I should have worn Apple Bottoms Jeans or boots with da furrr for good luck.