A whole class on stockings? Bien sûr!

I'm sorry it's been so long: I didn't realise how much time had passed since my last post. I'm trying to keep to two a week, but it's harder to fit that in that it seems like it should be.

Specifically, I owe you guys a wrap-up of the Burlesque Expo.

It was... an adventure. I had a great time, and a lot of the people I met were really nice. The classes were fascinating: in addition to the aforementioned stockings and heels workshop (focused on how to take them off, of course), I studied how to eye-flirt with the audience and how to do perfect pin-up make-up. I also sat in on a panel discussion of race in burlesque, which was awesome right up until an older man who was attending the workshop (for reasons that eluded us all) started sharing his opinions, and... well. His heart was in the right place, but his vocabulary hadn't quite caught up.

Apart from that, though, it was a riot. Most of the women there were a fucking riot, and it was great to be a part of that energy. Of course, there were a few That Girls getting underfoot, but that's only to be expected. Some cruel people will tell you that burlesque is stripping for ugly girls; I disagree with that on a variety of levels (those bitches were HOT, just for a start), but there's no denying that burlesque has become an outlet for the sort of oversexed girl who back in our day simply would have been BISEXUAL!!! until she found a boy patient enough not to care about her daddy issues. So, you know, there was a bit of that. What was sad was how blatantly - and unflatteringly - they stuck out against the girls who were legitimately confident in and comfortable with their sex appeal, and how utterly they seemed to fail to recognise this.

I haven't decided yet if I'll pursue burlesque myself, but it was great fun to dip a (stockinged) toe in. For now I'm enjoying belly dancing way too much to think about doing anything else, apart from maybe some hula-hooping classes - those will at least compliment each other.

I have to pull myself together for work now, yuck. Still temping. The second interview for the other job seemed to go well, but again, it's very hard to know. We'll see what happens.

XOXO

Link du jour: All about That Guy.

Some shimmies are bigger than others.

So I had my second belly dancing class this week. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant… except for how I was having a particularly clumsy day, so I could do pretty much nothing right. Until, that is, the end of class, when we did the usual shimmy circle. Every teacher I’ve ever had has done a variant on this, and it’s always my favourite part of class: throw on whatever song (usually a drum solo) and shimmy. Nothing else. Just shimmy.

Shimmying is exactly like what it sounds like, but it’s not done at all like how you think. Here’s what you do: stand up (go on, no one’s watching!), bend and straighten one knee, then bend and straighten the other. Did you notice how your hips dropped and raised as you did that? [sigh] No, I didn’t think so. Okay, try it again, but this time pay attention. I’m not doing this for my health.

Got it? Good. Now keep doing it, and congratulations: you’re shimmying!

Shimmying is very important to most belly dancing styles, and it’s just the most fun. (It’s also a great way to keep warm at bus stops, if you don’t mind the odd stare.) But like most things worth doing, it’s much harder than it seems at first. My particular weakness is slipping from a standard shimmy into a full-body shimmy when I speed up. I can’t really explain that without going into detail that would be boring and mostly useless without illustrations, but suffice it to say that it is, like almost everything in my life, a control issue. Except that this week, for some reason, I got it exactly right and entirely without trying. I can’t imagine why, especially as I’d been so useless at everything else (don’t even say the words ‘chest circle’ to me), but it felt SO. GOOD. There’s something about the rhythm of a good shimmy that feels like nothing else, and the best ones clear my head in way that few things do. I cannot tell you how happy I am to be doing this again.

This week I also had my first Zumba class. I switched into this when my intermediate belly dancing class got canceled; I figured it would at least keep me moving, and if I hated it, well, I’d only have to do it for six weeks.

I didn’t hate it; I didn’t love it; I was just terribly amused by it. Forget alcohol: Zumba is the great equalizer. Just ask the basketball butches - definitely a subspecies, easily recognized by their two-tone, mulletted plumage and wife-beaters - who were mamboing around with the rest of us: you can’t make Zumba cool, you can’t make Zumba tough. You can’t be too cool for school when you’re doing the Macarena (and no, I’m not making that up).

In other dancetastic news, I will be spending my weekend here. My belly dancing teacher is teaching a couple of classes, and I've wanted to check out burlesque for ages, so while many of my farthest-and-dearest are camping and fishing and otherwise being tormented by the 'Great' Outdoors (yeah, I have my sources!), I will be sauntering around in fishnets and heels. So... pretty much business as usual, there. I promise a full report after!

XOXO

Link du jour: This is what I want played every time I enter a room.

Confidential to the Ginja Ninja: Be careful at work, the temptation may overwhelm you. :)