Of All Things…WHY Belly Dancing???

And this...this is my Hip Scarf!!!

Belly dancing, it's random, I know!!!

I grew up in an extremely athletic family.  It's in our name, you know...WILSON!!!  I played soccer, volleyball, Frisbee, basketball, softball, baseball, etc...pretty much ANY and ALL sports became the love of my life.  With such an upbringing one might wonder how on earth I got into belly dancing.  Me, this clumsy little Mormon girl whose first and last dance class was at the age of 5...(it was a ballet class:)  Since then, any word associated with femininity, such as: graceful, elegant, flexible... has been far from any adjective people would choose to describe me.  At the age of 12 I decided I would participate in a gymnastics class.  Ha, I realized quickly that I was not cut out for that sort of thing as I not only out-aged everybody in the class by at least 2 years, but might I also mention that I do recall "bragging" about being the tallest one in the class when we were doing the splits ;)  I'm sure you now have this rather interesting mental image of an extremely inflexible, uncoordinated female attempting to belly dance.  I will admit that this new found passion of mine came as a surprise to me as well!

Why Belly dancing???

Well, one of my previous roommates started taking belly dancing classes about two years ago, and while visiting her this April, I decided to ask her to teach me a dance move.  I thought it looked SOOO cool when she would show me random moves she knew.  I spent the next 10-15 minutes looking at myself in the mirror becoming quite frustrated that I could not come anywhere close to imitating the move she was trying to teach me.  I looked like a 90 year old trying to do the hokey poky.  It was an embarrassing and pitiful sight and I ended up being rather annoyed with myself for the next hour or so.  Three months later, I attended the first day of my belly dancing class.   I was bound and determined to learn how to do that one move my roommate had tried teaching me those three months before.  That first class was difficult.  I spent the entire time starring at myself in the mirror...forehead scrunched, eyebrows furrowed, occasional sighs of frustration, but I refused to give up that easily.  By week four I found myself laughing at my various mistakes, stiff limbs, and multiple moments of confusion made evident through my oh so frequent blank stares.  The last three sessions of that class were glorious, and for the entire hour I had a gigantic grin plastered on my face.  I was nowhere near mastering fluidity or grace, but I had found a new love, and I couldn't have been happier!!!

Just, you know, practicing in my apartment!!!