Belly Dancers

I love belly dancers. I love the bright colors, the sound of the zills, the beat of the drum, the grace and beauty of the dancers. After a particularly nasty break-up when I was 26, I decided to take a dance class. I joke that Belly Dancing was listed first in the Yellow Pages so I signed up, but in actuality, I was fascinated with the strong and sexy women I saw performing at Farmer's Market.

When I showed up for my first class, I was quickly disabused of the notion that belly dancing is a dance performed for men. I learned that it was a dance for women. A dance that celebrates the female body and a woman's connection with her center and the earth. We danced barefoot, our feet extensions of the earth. The movements flowed through our bodies, from the ground to our fingertips. Our teacher calling out for us to extend our fingertips reaching for the sun, the moon, the sky. I learned that my body, with my soft belly, was feminine and beautiful. It was as much a spiritual dance as it was physical.

I tied a hip scarf around my waist and felt, for the first time, the movement of my hips as a pendulum. I fastened zills to my fingertips and felt my body keeping beat to the music of my hands. It was magical. Unfortunately, I quickly learned that my conservative Christian roots resist the pull of the beating drums. I was slightly gawky, slightly stiff, never able to really let loose unless I was in the privacy of my own home. For someone who tends to be a perfectionist, the frustration overcame the love of the dance.

Fast forward a couple of years. I was in a show and told the choreographer that I'd taken belly dancing lessons. He pointed me over to an amazing dancer named Amy and told me I was now a part of her routine. I watched in fascination as Amy's hips took on a life of their own. They shimmied, they rolled, they moved with a fluidity that was amazing to watch. I have to give her credit...she taught me more than all my previous lessons and, when in doubt, she just added a scarf to my costume to help my hips. I re-discovered the love of the dance and gained enough confidence to perform not just that year, but the year after. I was still stiff. I was still a bit graceless, but I had fun.

I haven't danced since having Joseph, but I still love the beat of the drums, the clang of the zills. We were lucky enough today to chance onto Amy's troupe while we were in Morro Bay. Amy's now pregnant...29 weeks I believe. I loved the way her coin bra ended in a point over her belly. I can imagine her unborn daughter dancing inside or lulled to sleep by the clink of the coins. I loved the way she embraced her baby belly. To me, it just showed how beautiful belly dancing is. It should be standard practice for expectant moms. I could have watched for hours, but my boys were hungry. I think I may check out a lesson here in Paso.