Page Two of Belly Dance Dropout, Part One
The first task was isolating muscles groups I was previously unaware existed. This involved small, controlled movements, while the rest of the body remains still. Since for every action there is a reaction, it was no easy task.
I tried to move my ribcage left and right as I immobilized my neck and shoulders. My hips refused to obey, sliding in the opposite direction instead of remaining still. I received the dubious honor of being the first student to be singled out and assigned to sit in a chair facing backwards. The purpose was to prevent my hips from moving. The disgrace passed once a few others joined me.
I resolved right then and there; I wasn’t going to be the poster child for poor technique. I practiced throughout the week as though my life depended on it. Time was spent both in a chair and standing, doing tiny precise movements until my sides begged for mercy.
It paid off, because the second week I managed to stay away from what I came to think of as the ‘Chair of Shame.’ We were shown the next move and my hips cooperated nicely with that one. It was a shimmy referred to as the ‘washing machine’. The hips quickly move forward and back like the agitator in the washer my parents’ owned in the late 1950s. My self-esteem was healing.
It turned out that the brightly patterned material I envisioned for my outfit wasn’t exactly the preferred, traditional look. Solid colors make a better backdrop to all the additional Bling: tassels, jangling coins, beads, bells and imagination. Look out fabric store, here I come!
I returned to the thrift store first. I didn’t like the coordinated top to the pattern I selected. The instructor suggested covering an old bra with material. Okay, I'm just not ‘there’ yet in my courage to dance around in a bra, decorated or otherwise. I wanted something that would cover my back, be a bit conservative in the front and have straps wide enough to prevent cutting into my shoulders. Avoiding anything that could possibly lead to a "costume malfunction" during a performance would also be a big plus.
A knit top practically jumped off its coat hanger and into my hands. It had 3/4 length sleeves that I could remove, and then crop the hem until it looks like a modest swimming suit top. It had a deep cleavage, but that area was covered with crocheted lace. Around the lace was an accent of gold colored beads. Perfect! Sexy, but not too revealing. It was bit small, but under the circumstances, being too snug to go anyplace might be a good idea. Besides, the fabric had plenty of stretch.
The next challenge was to find material for the skirt in the same color, that would have the flow and movement I needed. I must have walked around the store for hours, hauling around every bolt of eggplant-colored fabric in the store. Some colors were close, but not close enough.
Eventually I returned home with everything I needed to create a layered skirt to match that secondhand top. (As a side note, the eggplant clashed with the lavender coin belt I purchased from the instructor after the first class.) Undeterred, I excitedly showed it off to my ever patient husband, a.k.a. the financier. He was pleased just to see me finally get a step closer to beginning construction.
How long would it take me to complete the project? Two weeks of the eight-week course had already passed and I still needed to think through enlarging the pattern to fit, hoping I got it right. There’s that terrifying point of no return when the scissors part the pieces from the scraps.
Part Two of Roberta McReynolds Belly Dance Dropout will appear in December
