Monday,
April 1, 2002
APRIL FOOL'S DAY

Ow. Ow ow ow.

Let me preface this by saying that no, this isn't an April Fool's gag. What follows is absolutely true.

I started belly dancing lessons tonight. In the process, I have discovered many, many muscle groups that were perfectly happy with their obscurity and are complaining in no uncertain terms about being drafted back into use.

Some back story -- I've been interested in taking belly dancing lessons for some time, now. I love the dance style, and I bloody well adore the costumes. So when I saw Isis and the Star Dancers perform last year at Scarborough Faire and discovered that they were only located 20 minutes away from the office, I kept checking their website for a beginner class that would coincide with my own schedule (i.e., not Tuesday nights).

Finally, the April schedule rolled around with Monday night from 6:30 to 7:30 PM open for beginners. I immediately called and signed up for class, then informed the Man from McKinney that he'd have to drive in solo on Mondays as I would be spending my evenings learning how to shimmy and do belly rolls.

The nice lady on the other end of the phone suggested that I come in a little early so that I could finish filling out my details, so I got there around 6:10 PM or so. Isis pretty much owns one side of an L-shaped strip mall in Bedford -- her compound includes two studios, additional rooms for dance-related activities and the Belly Dancing Treasures boutique. You enter through the boutique, and my mouth immediately started watering at all the gorgeous bras, hip scarves, jewelry, harem pants and other costumes arrayed along the walls.

I got a chance to do a bit of browsing before hearing one of the instructors greet another beginning student and bring her into the studio. I followed, taking off my shoes first (because most of the dancers rehearse barefoot and the studio is consequently carpeted), and immediately felt more than a bit self-conscious. I was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants (my workout gear from earlier in the afternoon, as a matter of fact), and the other students drifting in were wearing leotards and tights, stretch pants and tank tops, or other silhouette-hugging clothing. Of course, I was also self-conscious because I was the biggest person there, and you feel a little weird when you're in a room full of teen-aged sticks.

Apparently I was just early, though -- a number of older and rounder women walked in just as the class was about to start. Isis then made us all feel good by saying that although we may have run into the situation elsewhere where we're too fat/thin/old/young/smart/dumb to do something, we were all just right for her classes.

What followed then was a half hour of warmup stretches, followed by twenty minutes of actual dance moves taught by Isis (who is simply the coolest lady -- she used to run two S&Ls before giving it up to dance and teach full time, and she's a true Texan when it comes to buckling down and having a good time). I haven't done this sort of sustained cardio work for decades, and the old bod simply wasn't ready to go into some of those positions, but I did my best. The dance moves were the most fun -- we learned how to do hip throws going forward, backward and in a circle, followed by this summoning gesture with your hips (it's the best way I can describe it -- you have to see it to believe it), shimmies and ribcase slides. By the time we finished I could hear the first grumbles coming from the general direction of my muscles, but by God it was fun. And Lyndon definitely seemed to appreciate my demonstration when I got home (a short demo, admittedly -- by that point I was stiff and extremely sore, but I just had to show off the hip throws) -- he was even talking about taking up Thai kickboxing so that 1) he'd have something to do with his evenings and 2) could keep up with me.

After six months of me doing this kind of workout, he may need it, heh, heh. . .