Saturday, September 15, 2012
Bellydancing
I definitely have my own mode of dress, but I apparently can't hide my gypsy soul.   I went to the bellydance thing last month not having been to bellydance class in, oh, a year or two.  The day was humid and my mane was large and poofed up like a cat about to pounce. I wore white top with some white beading and a black skirt, but it was fairly low-key.  I'll own that my sandals were kind of spangly.  I am also not the classical dancer physique, you must know, so I wouldn't expect anyone to look at me and assume I'm a dancer in any context.   I walked into the event and went to the table at the entrance to purchase my ticket and the lady at the table asked me "are you here to perform?"

Seriously?  I quickly looked up and searched her face for tongue-in-cheekery.  Yes,  she was serious. 

Wow.

I have taken the bellydance classes not thinking anyone would want to see me dancing, but entirely for my own diversion.  I've never really considered dancing in public, even.  Doing this is for me like wearing nice underthings-- no one else has to know I do it (which is why I'm blabbing it here, right?), but _I_ know and I can take pleasure in it. 

Anyway, I'm having fun with it and I'm going to keep attending class and enjoying myself, whether anyone knows it or not.  But I may not be able to resist blabbing it here.  And maybe I will be dragged kicking and screaming to perform with the group somewhere.  Or maybe not.
Written by phlegmfatale
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Name: Phlegmfatale
Location: Elsewhere, Texas, USA

I'm not whining;
I'm unburdening.
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