Tag Archives: belly dancing

Of Dewdrop Temptresses, Womb Energy and Ryan Gosling

30 Mar

Dearest Dewdrop Temptresses of the Nile,

I am writing to you to inform you of my latest obsession.

(Don’t worry. Not taxidermy.)

I take regular contemporary dance classes, as you know, mostly to stay in shape and relax after work, plus it’s kind of artsy and I don’t even have to invest in a $3,000 camera or anything.

Well, here’s the thing about contemporary dance: I’ve been doing it for so long now that I feel perfectly comfortable even heading into a class I’ve never taken before. I walk into a class and think, “Ok, so now we are stretching, and now we are doing tendus. Now she is going to say we can get water and I am going to go snag that spot near the front from this ho with the ponytail so I can see the choreography better.” etc.

It’s all very relaxing and meditative and all that, but there’s just no fear in it anymore. Also, not enough womb energy.

But you know what has a lot of fear and womb energy?

BELLY DANCING!

I keep going around and around until I stop feeling feelings.

Here’s how this happened: The Ha-Canadian (Henceforth renamed Zahira of the Canadian Wilds) asked me recently to tell her which forms of dance I was bad at.

“I want to take a dance class with you, but I don’t want you to be all good at it,” she said.

“Hmmm, well, I’ve never taken belly dancing, I’m terrible at African, and I don’t tap.”

“Oooh. Let’s take belly dancing,” said the as-yet-unrealized Zahira of the Canadian Wilds. (Also, she has me on the hook for African, which my white, can’t bend my knees ass is going to be a HOOT at.)

So we signed up for a weekly class at the Mark Morris Dance Center here in Brooklyn, with a spunky teacher who likes to shout “AIIWA” more than I like to drink and eat pizza (so, like, a lot). The very first day, we show up and she immediately has us wiggling and jiggling and shaking our asses all around the room like it is feeding time in the Chippendale’s Men’s dressing room. I expected that, as I am a lily white girl from Florida and not a buxom, ravishing Arabic princess, I would be incredibly awkward at it, but it turns out that beginning belly dancing is remarkably simple.

“I just, this is basically just shaking your ass,” I say. “For an HOUR AND A HALF! I LOVE IT!”

Zahira and I jiggle around in a circle and sashay across the floor. The other ladies are all wearing midriff tops and coin belts that jingle like a change purse whenever they shake their hips.

“We need those little jingly things,” says Zahira.

“I think I need a bigger ass,” I say, frowning into the mirror. ” Also. Jingly things.”

“AIIWAAAAA,” shouts the teacher. “These are Egyptian half circles. EGYPTIAN. You have to use your pelvis. You have to put your WOMB ENERGY into it.”

Zahira and I giggle. “Womb energy?” she mouths. The teacher shoots us a dirty look.

The next time we come to class, the instructor splits us into two groups for the butt shaking.

“This group will be the Divine Temptresses of the Nile!” she declares, to group 1.  “And the second group, you will be The Great Mistress Sheba Lounging on a Bed of Pillows”

*we giggle*

*teacher shoots us a dirty look*

*ass shaking commences*

Seriously, y’all. At this rate I’m going to be able to shake my ass for like four hours straight by the end of the month. And you just wait till I get them jingly things. I am going to annoy the ever-loving hell out of my roommates.

*jingle jingle jingle jingle*

“Hey, Holmes. Can you keep it down? We’re watching 30 Rock.”

*jingle jangle JINgle JINgle*

“Seriously man, this is a funny part what the hell”

*JINGLY JANGLE JING JING JINGLY*

“GOD DAMN IT YOU ARE THE WORST ROOMMATE EVER!”

and then I will blast him with my womb energy (my female roommate will survive because women are immune to womb energy)

and SPEAKING of womb energy, here is some NEUROSCIENTIST RYAN GOSLING