When I was little, I had four things I wanted to be when I grew up:
- A professional dancer,
- An archaeologist,
- A writer, or
- A parapsychologist.
(Note: Professional rider is not on the list. I like to enjoy my horses and didn’t want them to become a chore.)
which one, I wasn’t sure, but they all sounded like fun. I took dance lessons from elementary school through high school. Dancing fell to the wayside because my ankles were not strong enough to support me en pointe. And after a certain level, you don’t progress without toe shoes. So, I gave that up. I never lost my love of dance though.
Over the years, I’ve tried folk dancing, swing dance, contra dancing… little bits here and there. Enjoyed all of it, but over sustained periods of time my knees and shins hurt. I never considered belly dance, until a friend of mine mentioned that she was starting a class. Blind me hadn’t realized she had been taking lessons for over three years with several local troops.
So I’m on the phone with her on Sunday evening and she asked me about my background in dance. Couple years of Jazz, quite a bit of Ballet, plenty of stage experience with acting and singing (not related to dance but definitely related to performing). We talked about her basic class (meets on Thursday evenings). She thought she could catch me up pretty quickly.
Never trust someone when they say, “Are you up for a challenge?” Silly me, I should have known better. “Sure, why not!” She asked me if I would like to perform at a student recital in Chattanooga in mid-November. Eeep! I have never had consistent belly dance classes in my life. Jazz and ballet are good training, yes, but definitely not the same. Mild panic. What was I doing to myself?
Sure, I replied! I would love to! What better way to force myself to get in shape and lose some weight than to add a deadline onto the mix?
