If you have ever doubted my ability for physical comedy, you should come watch me in my belly dancing class at the Y.
I am very out of shape. I don’t mean overweight, I mean in poor physical condition. At this stage in my life it is quite a challenge to officially exercise, so I thought signing up for a class would force me to do it. But I didn’t want a boring class, so I took a chance and signed up for Belly Dancing. At the time I registered, I was the only one signed up so I didn’t even know if the class would happen.
It did. There were six other participants, and the teacher – whom my husband has dubbed “The Original Belly Dancer” based on my description of her to him. Some of the other students take this class regularly and came with supplies. Others probably share my gift for physical comedy, though I don’t know because I was too self conscious to look at any one else when we were “dancing”. There are many areas of life in which my lack of curves gives me a distinct disadvantage – belly dancing is one of them.
Both my five year old and my husband asked, “What did you do? What does belly dancing look like?” My answer? It is exactly what you think it is. Whatever it is you picture when you think of belly dancing, that is what we did in class. And I am pretty sure the teacher is making it up as she goes.
So now I have ordered a coined skirt and a veil for the class because I feel like the teacher would prefer us to get our own instead of using hers (and I don’t want to be rude). So not only am I now attending a weekly belly dancing class, but I am also the owner of a belly dancing skirt and veil that I get to keep forever.
So I never ever forget that I once signed up for a belly dancing class at the Y with the O.B.D.