Belly Dance Beginnings

I was the quintessential reluctant belly dancer.  I kept hearing rumblings and hints that Rachael, the sweet gal who worked at the natural foods cafe, taught belly dance classes, of all things, and I was being prompted to try it.  I would graciously excuse myself by making quips about how my belly “danced” on its own when I walked down stairs. These friendly deflections lasted a few months, until this charming, unassuming goddess of dance threw a Hafla, a middle-eastern inspired party where there would be food, music, henna, hors d’hoevres, an introduction to ATS bellydance, and, did I mention food? I’m a sucker for hummus! So…I attended.

It was a fun gathering and the highlight was a video of a troupe called Fat Chance Bellydance…a bevy of bodacious beauties dancing together in a seamless synchronized rhythm…absolutely mesmerizing.  Still, I wanted only to watch them more! I wanted to find out these dancers’ performance schedule and just gawk from the lazy platform of spectator.  However, because Rachael is so darling and enthusiastic about her art form, and because she was a new friend in a new locale for me, I chose to support her by committing to a 6-class dance card.  That, I could do.

Over two years, 100 yards of skirting, a collection of bindis, coin bras and other BD bling later…I obviously fell headlong into a new infatuation. And the romance has yet to fade.  I somehow have even found myself performing at our local bistro for an audience of supportive, indulgent, and I feel, charitable locals and visitors.  Had I entered into these lessons and this dance form with any remote urge to perform, I would have ceased early on. It isn’t easy to master the layering of movement, the isolations, rhythm and grace required to make it appear effortless.  Any skill or grace I have developed has happened purely by osmosis… as a sort of side benefit to my passion for the music, the camaraderie – or more, sisterhood – the exhilarating concept of making your body do things that are unnatural! I owe a debt of gratitude to the tenacious, inspiring, encouraging,  and diverting Rachael for luring me into this addiction. I’m a bellydance junkie..and proud of it!

For more shimmytastic sharing, see: Belly Dancing Blessings: When “Me” Gets Lost in “We”

Me and Rachael, the Loveable Culprit