Rerun of a funny blog entry from August 10, well, it makes me laugh, and may get me off my butt and rehearse.

Serious entry this am….not now! I’m dressing

to go dance…first time really in 5 months…and I am thinking what a chore in this heat.

Actually, belly dancing is more about ‘undressing’ but still what a chore in this heat.

After the bath, there is the usual shaving parts that might be crucial. There is hot rollers, hair spray, all the necessary toiletries. There are panties and a skirt, positioned just so beneath the belly button, curved to the hips and don’t show too much ass. There is the bra, is the performance monster shifting or are your boobs??? Do you have the sense to remember that the Turkish women in the countryside who make your costumes are sadists and leave pins in the bottom of your bra, or was that the trick of your alterer?

This week you got you hair cut for the first time in years…except little, little trims and the women who did the job were Nazis. They cut 6 inches off and now you have little ’swing’. They waxed your eyebrows and you feel like a chemo girl. You now have to use more crap to contour eyebrows and the heat of the sun has melted your pencils. You find the elastic of your undies is questionable, and if they fall, you got more trouble. Your nails have been removed because they became a pain in the ass (literally) and you couldn’t pick your nose, but now you have nuthin’. Nice. You bend down to shake your boobs evenly into the cups and the one clasp in back breaks. You have to cannibalize another bra for the clasp. You bend down to shake your boobs evenly in the cups and they fall out this time. Not a good sign.

You get your weird hair out of curlers and tease, and it spikes off into uneven weird hairdo. You look closely and there is a pimple on your nose. You are too old for pimples. Nature doesn’t care.

You look for your dance heels and you find one. And only one. So you go for another pair, and you remember that they are really uncomfortable after an hour…or before.

You think, Glitter or not? You find green and red glitter, not the pearl/gold or silver glitter…and if you use you will look like a Xmas tree. Not the right season.

Jewelry. Lots of choices, but with layered hair, earrings need to be proportioned. Silver bangles need to be polished, and there goes the hands.

And about the hands….you better wear zils or you will be noticed. Or your stubby nails will be noticed and noted. Down.

You take a deep breath and notice that your stomach isn’t where it was. 5 months of computer and sloth and it wouldn’t be.

When you finally are dressed, your makeup is sliding because ….see the first paragraph.

Tonight is special. I haven’t danced in 5 months, and I have seriously missed it. I am getting misty eyed thinking of my Berber drummers and waiters I haven’t seen in all these months. My stomach is clenching thinking about Nicola’s food. But most of all, I have missed the hated Nicola, and the music.

I miss dancing and weaving the little magic that is within my ability. I miss being a woman on display.

I miss the fine art of seduction through belly dance.

Teela…who is usually Lady Nyo here, except when she’s dancing

Tags: bellydance, love of dance, Nazi hairdressers, zils