I Am The Hip Snap Of Awesome
I am not a very coordinated person.
Physically, that is.
I trip over my own feet while walking down the hall, fall over when I get up out of a chair, spill whatever liquid I’m carrying (usually down my shirt, the coochie part of my jeans, on my shoes), and end up in weird contorted positions while sleeping or relaxing that would otherwise be painful (legs akimbo, back twisted, arms pushing down various parts of my skull, burping and farting, with drool running down my chin).
That being said, I looked at myself in the full-wall mirrors at bellydancing class last night and thought…”You are one graceful, sexy woman.”
When I do work out (HAH! Not lately), I walk, ride a stationary bike, or sit at weight machines in the back of the gym as I ogle the college boys pumping iron in the front of the room. (Drooling is "working out", is it not?)
I’m not a swimmer.
I don’t do yoga.
I’m as flexible as a 2x4.
But something about this style of dance, the tensing and relaxing and circular motions, jibes with the moves my body naturally wants to make. It’s very sexy. (I like sex.) It’s very fluid (like sex). It’s controlled and precise (um…NOT like sex…unless you count that I control my screaming during sex, then, yeah…sex). Fortunately for me, there are quite a number of women in the class who are in their 50s and 60s, so the instructor is patient and slow with the class...that prolly helps. I haven't shown any moves to Sergei yet. I don't know what I'm waiting for.
Last night, when the hip slides took achingly forever for everyone else to ‘get’ except me, I stared at myself in the mirror, tucked and lifted, my hips sliding side to side, my ass tight, and I thought…huh…I look GOOD.
Now if I could only get that belly roll down....