Bigger, big-GER, BIGGER!!

I have recently gotten back into the shimmy of things by taking up belly dance classes again. Every Monday night I speed down to Tenleytown for my class at Sahara Dance and to see my fluffiness reflected in the mirrored walls surrounding me.

Now I’ve been taking lessons since ’04, with the pinnacle of my dancing success (along with the first ever sighting of my midriff in public since the diaper era) happening in ’06 (those who are skilled in Google research can find incriminating photos of me, and possible video). While I’m a little rusty from my hiatus, I’ve still got the moves and muscle memory going for me.

However, one thing gets me *every* session — after the yoga-inspired warmup (the teacher’s words, not mine), we begin a a torturous series of shimmies. It starts out well enough with my hips doing what they are supposed to do, but right as the distinct burning sensation starts from keeping my arms in that perfect position, right as my calves beg for a little break, I hear it: “Bigger, big-GER, BIGGER!!”

My teacher was formerly an aerobics instructor, with the only evidence of her former life coming during our shimmy session. I know it’s coming and I psych myself up for the announcement, yet every time I hear the “Bigger” chant, I fight the urge to attack something with a sparkley hip scarf. My teacher is awesome, except for when she utters those three little words. It’s almost as if she knows right when that the burn is kicking in for me and she decides to “encourage” us. When I look around at the size 2 bodies around me, the look of “please make the shimmy stop” is not on their faces. Their little butts are happily swaying along, with nary a sweat bead forming.

I have one not-so-small comfort: My bust shimmies can (literally) knock them all out. Talk about bigger…. 😀


~ by pithycomments on February 6, 2008.

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