I came upon a little woven bag while cleaning out my closet,
and poured the contents out onto my bed: a chiffon hip scarf covered with
“gold” beads and coins, and brass finger cymbals. Ah, yes. The belly dancing
adventure.
When I saw a notice of an upcoming beginning belly dancing
class, I was excited. I had not been divorced long and my children were all
away at college. It was certainly my “Who Am I Now?” phase. Perhaps, under my
conservative librarian mom exterior, I was a belly dancer. A richly veiled,
seductive belly dancer with heavy eyeliner and wearing gold slippers.
My friend Sue and I walked into the elementary school
gym/cafeteria on the first night of class, checked in with the instructor and
selected a hip scarf from a pile of bright chiffon. The earlier arrivals had
claimed the scarves dripping with crocheted fringe, beads and fake gold coins,
and we late arrivals got the unadorned leftovers. Sue eyed the fancy scarves
and decided to find some online, ASAP.
After the warm-up with our arms and hands doing all sorts of
cool belly dancer things, such as “snake arms,” we learned to sway, shifting
our weight gently from side to side. Ooo, that felt good! I was using muscles
I’d never met.
During that next week, I swayed while waiting for the
microwave. I did hip circles at the copy machine at work. I even did a sort of
shimmy while driving.
Sue ordered hip scarves, as promised, and they arrived
before our next class. Mine had three rows of jangling coins and beads that
accentuated every move. (Side note: I selected dark brown. Was that my last
grasp for librarian/mom?) How satisfying to hear my hips jingle with every hip
drop. The more I moved, the better I felt. The gentle awakening of all those
forgotten muscles sent a message to my brain: Wake up, you sexy goddess!
I was a belly dancer. I was bursting with feminine power and
ancient female wisdom. I was a part of the great Circle of Women.
I loved the shimmy. I loved how it felt, loved that my hips
were capable of that behavior and loved the absurdly satisfying sound my hip
scarf made when it was fully in action. Our instructor kept us shimmying as she
went around to check our technique. I was shimmying like mad and starting to break
a sweat when Sue called from behind me, “Don’t stop, Krista. I’m starting to
get kinda turned on back here.” Oh my. I had to stop and hold my legs together
to keep from wetting my hip scarf.
We were putting on our shoes after class when a woman beside
me said, “I like your hips.”
She liked my hips. At first I was stunned. Then I reasoned, “Of course she likes my
hips. I’m an Exquisite and Voluptuous Goddess, apparently irresistible to men
AND women. I must learn to use my power wisely.”
I carried the Exquisite and Voluptuous Goddess magic with me
the rest of the week. It influenced every action. I spoke and moved with
confidence and grace. I was a delicious and powerful dollop of womanhood. I
suddenly wanted to eat more vegetables and eliminate sugar from my diet. I
wanted to throw out every crew neck t-shirt in my closet. From now on, it was V-necks
only, baby, and the deeper the better. Andy why did I not own anything slinky? This
had to be remedied.
I’m not into women, but I will admit I was also pretty proud
that a younger and very nice-looking woman liked my hips. How exciting was that?? I practiced my figure
eights in front of the mirror, watching my hips with new appreciation.
On the last night of class, I strode my Exquisite and
Voluptuous Belly Dancer Goddess self into the gym, shoulders back and head held
high, my regal exterior just managing to conceal the raw sexuality smoldering
within.
As I was taking off my shoes, the gal with a crush on me
said, “I seriously do love your hip scarf, Krista. Where did you find it?”
She liked my hip SCARF. Oh, OK. I wasn’t altogether
comfortable with that other, anyway.
We learned a new traveling step that last night. It was a
hip lift-and-drop and we practiced by moving around the circle in single file. Gosh, I was getting good at this. I dropped
my hip with an extra flair that set my coins in motion. Maybe this would be my
signature move.
As I moved around the circle, I felt my heavy hip scarf
shifting lower and lower on my hips, searching for a place to rest. Hip drop,
step, scarf slip. Hip drop, step, scarf slip. It wasn’t long before my hip
scarf found a place to rest. Five pounds of beads and fake gold coins slipped down
my legs and onto the gym floor with a clatter.
Everyone turned at the sound and stared at the puddle of glamourous
chiffon and glittering gold puddled at my feet. I’m sure I saw several
Exquisite and Voluptuous Goddess endorphins scurrying away from the scarf like rats
from a ship.
I have not done any belly dancing since that series of
classes. I’m a little afraid, to be honest. I came dangerously close to letting
my new-found taste of feminine power rule my existence and make over my
wardrobe. Who knows what might have happened if I’d actually learned to use the
finger cymbals?
I slipped the lovely hip scarf and cymbals back into the bag
and put it on the closet self - not hidden in the back where I’d found it, but
right out in front where I’ll see it and acknowledge the power of the Exquisite
and Voluptuous Goddess every day.
And when I’m ready and think I can handle the power
responsibly, watch out world!
