Exquisite Power of Belly Dancing

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!