Dancing

I have recently taken up belly dancing. There is a class at the place I take exercise classes and after watching a few times, I thought, why not?

Okay, the truth is you really can’t stop me from dancing. I have always been a dancer. When I was three I had a baby sitter that used to be a professional dancer. Photos I saw of her dressed in tights and a pink tutu was enough to capture my imagination, however the first time I was put into a tutu, I was a goner.

The feel of cool satin against my chest and looking down to see toile jetting out from my hips was foreign in a fun way. It makes you feel like you are suddenly able to fly. Of course, I tested out that theory right away by running all over the house like a crazed bee.

Since then I have taken Ballet, Jazz and now Belly-dancing. Never Tap, the sound of the floor and having to practice seemed to be too much noise for my mother when I was young. And now, it doesn’t appeal to me.

Things that come to mind are grace and timing, discipline. I have always admired dancers and take time to see the Ballet when they come into town, from time to time.

I don’t mind the Ballet instructors coming over and straightening me out, or reminding me to hold my hands a certain way. The same happens in all the classes I take. I never chaff at this, but use it as a way to do better.

Many people I know hate to hear these types of critiques, but really how do you know if you are doing it right if no one tells you?

One thing I always try to do, since I grew up with too much harsh critiques, is to complement. As much as I can I always try to let people know that I care and that I think they are great. Some times it might come out sounding corny, but at least I said it and didn’t hold back telling my friends that I care. I never regret it.

Of course I could always take them out dancing as well, and after a bit who cares if I know all the steps. As long as I am having fun! In the mean time at work I can metally dance up and down the block, with my ipod on.